THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

Prom  the  collection  of 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased.  1918. 

815 

Au76na 


BOOKSTACKS 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below.  A 
charge  is  made  on  all  overdue 


books. 

U.  of  I.  Library 

Mfm  1 0 i 

U1*' 

S42 

M3  2 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/nantucketscrapsb00aust_1 


Nantucket  Scraps 


BEING  THE  EXPERIENCES  OF  AN  OFF-ISLANDER, 
IN  SEASON  AND  OUT  OF  SEASON,  AMONG 
A PASSING  PEOPLE 


BY 

JANE  G.  AUSTIN 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
Utoerjsi&e  <£amfori&fie 
1891 


Copyright , 1882 , 

By  James  R.  Osgood  and  Company. 
All  rights  reserved . 


The  Riverside  Press , Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  & Company. 


f\.$Y\ct)  $0  0ct28 


§13 

p\uSlCr\&~ 


TO 

FRIEND  JAMES, 

8ntJ  ©tf)er  JFrientJS, 

WHOSE  KINDLINESS  AND  COURTESY  MAKE  MY  MEMORIES 
OF  NANTUCKET  BOTH  JOYOUS  AND 
GRATEFUL. 


BOSTON,  November,  1882. 


CONTENTS. 


Part  JL 

NANTUCKET  IN  SEASON. 


Scrap  Page 

I.  The  Going  to  Nantucket 3 

II.  The  Being  There 19 

III.  Graveyards 34 

IV.  Dionis 48 

V.  The  Lisbon  Bell 62 


VI.  Mrs.  McCleve’s  Museum,  the  Wind- 
mill, and  Newtown  Burying-Ground  75 


VII.  Friends 96 

VIII.  “Lilian ” and  Seven  Sharks  ....  107 

IX.  A Squantum 128 

X.  Sconset 145 

XI.  Sconset  in  Summer 166 

XII.  The  Coffins 183 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


$ at  t EE 

NANTUCKET  OUT  OF  SEASON. 

Scrap  Page 

I.  The  Summer  Boarder 203 

II.  Real  Nantucket 216 

III.  The  Life-Saving  Station 262 

IV.  SCONSET  FROM  THE  INSIDE.  — WHALES  AND 

Camels 272 

V.  Voyaging  under  Perilous  Circumstances  337 


PART  I. 

NANTUCKET  IN  SEASON. 


I 


SCRAP  I. 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET. 

N the  tip  of  what  would  be  the  southerly 
shoulder  of  the  cod  if  the  Cape  of  that 
name  were  really  shaped  like  the  na- 
tional fish,  or  what  would  be  the  southerly  strap 
of  the  boot-leg  if  it  were  really  shaped  like 
a boot,  lies  the  town  of  Falmouth,  and  on  the 
extreme  southerly  tip  and  verge  of  Falmouth 
a knot  of  houses  clusters  around  a pretty  little 
landlocked  basin  of  water ; and  those  of  us  ven- 
erable enough  to  remember  the  “late  unpleas- 
antness ” grew  up  to  call  hamlet  and  basin 
Wood's  Hole.  The  wisdom  of  the  later  days 
has  corrected  this  nomenclature  into  Wood’s 
Holl,  and  avers  that  the  Skeleton  in  Armor, 
after  building  the  windmill-castle  of  Newport, 
annexed  this  little  property  as  a sort  of  port  of 


4 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


entry,  and  called  it  in  Scandinavian  his  Holl,  or 
Hold.  Whether  his  name  was  Wood,  and  there- 
fore Wood's  Holl,  these  revivalists  have  not  yet 
stated.  When  they  do,  we  shall  know  as  much 
as  the  Pickwickians  finally  discovered  about 
their  Runic  inscription;  and  meantime  we  may 
consider  the  whole  matter  relegated  to  the 
realm  of  aestheticism,  and  therefore  not  to 
be  considered  in  the  vulgar  light  of  common- 
sense.  Moreover,  as  the  newspapers  now  print 
the  name  of  this  place  Wood’s  Holl,  it  is  at 
once  removed  from  cavil  or  question. 

Wood’s  Holl  contains  several  things,  but  the 
one  of  general  interest  is  a railway  station  occu- 
pying the  head  of  a wharf,  — for  this  station  is 
the  terminus  of  seventy  miles  of  rail  annexing 
Boston  to  Wood’s  Holl ; and  at  this  wharf  arrive, 
at  their  own  pleasure  and  with  a large  and  noble 
disregard  of  fixed  times,  the  steamers  conveying 
persons  over  the  thirty  watery  miles  still  interven- 
ing between  Boston  and  Nantucket.  It  is  with  a 
secret  and  mysterious  satisfaction  that  Nantucket 
always  announces  herself  as  lying  just  one  hun- 
dred miles  from  Boston ; and  although  the  pro- 
saic and  anti-Oscar  mind  rebelliously  demands 
statistics  to  convince  it  that  the  distance  is  not 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET 


5 


ninety-seven,  or  one  hundred  and  four,  or  even 
ninety-nine  and  three-quarters  miles,  — anything 
but  that  mystically  rounded  centigrade,  — no 
proof  is  vouchsafed  ; and  still  Nantucket  blandly 
smiles  and  says,  — 

“ Just  a hundred  miles  from  here  to  Boston.” 

At  Wood’s  Holl,  in  this  station,  and  upon  this 
wharf,  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  a very  hot 
day  in  early  July,  1 88 1 , a party  of  tired,  hungry, 
worn,  and  variously  irate  travellers.  These  con- 
ditions, incident  to  summer  travel,  were  in  this 
case  aggravated  by  a detention  of  nearly  three 
hours  upon  the  road,  the  southward-bound 
train  having  encountered  the  wreck  of  a freight 
train  laden  with  sand.  The  passengers  were 
invited  to  make  their  election  between  being 
backed  to  Boston  and  trying  it  again  next  day, 
or  dismounting,  walking  round  the  wreck,  and 
waiting  until  a “ picked-up  ” train  could  be  put 
together  to  take  them  on.  The  passengers 
growled,  but  nearly  unanimously  cried  “ Excel- 
sior ! ” and,  grasping  yet  more  firmly  their  bags, 
shawls,  parasols,  lunch-baskets,  novels,  papers, 
bouquets,  and  babies,  trooped  down  the  steps 
of  the  cars,  and  thence  jumped  or  were  lifted 
into  a steep  bank  of  red-hot  sand  shelving  pre- 


6 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


cipitately  into  a ditch  happily  pretty  dry.  Be- 
yond the  ditch  lay  the  forest  primeval,  as  tangly, 
damp,  snaky,  and  uninviting  as  the  forest  pri- 
meval usually  is ; and  thence  issued,  with  clang 
of  shardy  wings  and  blast  of  war-trumpets  and 
general  onset  of  battle,  the  troops  of  beetles, 
black  flies,  and  mosquitoes  which  lie  in  wait  in 
the  forest  primeval  for  such  prey  as  the  gods 
deliver  to  their  stings.  The  aesthete  is  invited 
here  to  consider  the  beautiful  fitness  of  the  train 
breaking  down  just  at  the  stingers'  door,  and 
the  occult  adaptation  of  the  sting  to  the  man 
and  the  man  to  the  sting,  with  the  added  har- 
mony of  the  golden  coreopsis  growing  in  the 
ditch,  — its  flower  like  a sunflower,  its  seed  like 
a bug,  under  which  general  title  the  American 
classes  everything  insectile. 

“ All  things  come  round,"  says  the  poet,  and 
the  passengers  were  no  exception,  — they  came 
round ; and  the  first  half  found  seats  in  the 
picked-up  train,  and  the  last  did  not,  — or  only 
that  ideal  seat  upon  the  monument  where  Pa- 
tience works  out  her  perfect  work.  Mysie  was 
one  of  the  passengers,  and  she  was  one  of  the 
first  half;  whereat  she  was  glad,  preferring  even 
a hard  bench  in  a picked-up  car  to  the  best 


THE  ' GOING  TO  NANTUCKET 


7 


monument  ever  occupied  by  Patience,  — Mysie 
and  Patience  not  being  simpatica . 

After  a while,  and  a great  while,  the  picked- 
up  train  was  put  in  motion,  probably  by  a hand- 
car,  judging  from  the  speed  and  jerky  action, 
and  such  of  the  passengers  as  had  lunch  ate  it, 
having  left  town  at  twelve  o’clock,  and  conse- 
quently finding  themselves  quite  “off  with  the 
old  love”  of  breakfast  by  two  o’clock.  Those 
who  had  no  lunch  either  looked  enviously  at 
those  who  had,  or  looked  politely  out  of  the 
window  and  pretended  they  did  not  know  it 
was  a question  of  lunch,  or  smelled  and  gazed 
at  the  coreopses  they  had  gathered,  and  said  in 
every  line  of  their  hungry  faces,  “ This,  oh  this, 
is  the  food  of  the  aesthetic  soul ! ” 

Again  a while,  and  a great  while,  and  the 
train  arrived  at  Wood’s  Holl,  and  there  found 
the  “ Island  Home  ” puffing  impatient  steam 
from  her  funnels,  and  dancing  up  and  down 
with  the  lively  flow  of  the  tide,  evidently  anx- 
ious to  be  off.  The  passengers  were  no  less 
so,  and  as  the  luggage  and  freight  were  at  that 
moment  backing  to  Boston,  there  was  nothing 
to  delay  the  almost  immediate  satisfaction  of 
this  desire  for  a start. 


8 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Some  few  of  those  feeble  sisters  to  whom 
pleasuring  must  be  a woful  penance  dived  at 
once  into  the  ladies’  cabin  and  lay  down  upon 
the  benches  around  its  side,  the  heels  of  one 
sister  to  the  head  of  the  next,  the  chain  being 
marked  off  by  little  pails  set  along  the  floor. 
Two  black  yet  sympathetic  stewardesses  were 
in  attendance,  and,  like  the  crocodile  in  “ Alice/1 

“ Welcomed  seasick  strangers  in 
With  gently  smiling  jaws.” 

But  as  the  sea  was  smooth  and  the  wind 
nul,  nearly  everybody  remained  upon  the  deck, 
which  was  uncomfortably  crowded  until  the 
boat  stopped  at  Oak  Bluffs,  when  about  four 
fifths  of  the  passengers  disembarked. 

Mysie,  who  with  the  selfish  acumen  of  an 
old  traveller  had  secured  one  of  the  best  seats 
upon  deck  before  the  crowd  perceived  there 
were  more  sitters  than  seats,  laid  down  the  “ Di- 
vina  Commedia,”  which  she  had  been  reading, 
and,  contemplating  all  the  stream  of  people  going 
ashore  and  the  shore  to  which  they  were  going, 
felt  her  mind  expanded  with  a new  idea.  Dante 
does  not  mention  it,  but  undoubtedly  there  is  a 
circle  in  Paradise,  a very  big  circle  too,  devoted 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET 


9 


to  the  virtuous  commonplace,  — those  who  on 
earth  find,  if  rich,  the  supreme  joy  of  life  in 
the  shops  of  Paris,  and  if  not  rich,  herd  to- 
gether in  gregarious  hilarity  at  Oak  Bluffs  ! 

Yes,  such  a Paradise  must  be,  since  these  are 
worthy  souls,  giving  the  full  tale  of  muslin  and 
alpaca,  cheese  or  sugar,  toting  up  the  ledger 
with  unhesitating  accuracy,  and  measuring  the 
molasses  in  an  honest  quart;  but  as  everything 
has  two  ends,  one  man’s  bliss  being  another’s 
bale,  and  this  one’s  meat  the  other’s  poison, 
and  as  in  the  divine  economy  almost  everything 
may  be  usefully  employed  in  various  directions, 
why  should  not  this  paradise  of  the  common- 
place be  also  the  purgatory  or  even  the  inferno 
of  the  aesthetic?  To  be  condemned  through 
infinite  ages  to  live  in  a small  wooden  house 
open  in  front,  rear,  and  on  both  sides  to  the 
eyes,  ears,  and  tongues  of  the  good  and  happy 
grocer  and  his  family,  to  never  feel  the  sense 
of  utter  stillness  and  loneliness  soothe  one’s 
jaded  nerves,  to  never  be  able  to  delude  one’s 
self  with  the  idea  that  possibly  nobody  ever 
sat  upon  this  rock  and  looked  at  just  this  bit 
of  nature  before! — tell  me,  O aesthete,  would 
Dis  be  more  horrible? 


I o NANTUCKE  T SCRAPS. 

Still  revolving  these  meek  and  charitable  fan- 
cies, Mysie  was  glad  to  hear  the  wheels  of  the 
“ Island  Home  ” begin  also  to  revolve,  and  she 
watched  the  shores  of  Martha’s  Vineyard,  mod- 
estly veiling  themselves  in  blue  illusion,  gently 
withdraw  into  the  obscurity,  until,  as  the  sun 
entered  his  evening  pavilion  of  purple  and  gold, 
the  only  visible  impertinence  offered  by  man  to 
Nature  was  the  creaking  and  hissing  boat  and 
its  freight  of  peanut-eaters.  In  the  lovely  dusk 
of  the  summer  evening,  the  shores  of  Nantucket 
defined  themselves  with  a stillness  and  dignity 
most  comforting  after  the  clamor  of  Oak  Bluffs. 
The  town  — and  it  is  so  pretty  of  it  not  to  call 
itself  a city  — lies  along  the  western  and  south- 
ern shores  of  a sheltered  basin  called  the  inner 
harbor,  in  distinction  to  the  great  outer  harbor 
or  roadstead,  outside  the  sheltering  arm,  some 
six  miles  in  length,  stretched  out  from  the  head 
of  the  island,  and  reaching  across  nearly  to 
another  promontory  about  midway  its  length, 
called  Brant  Point,  — thus  inclosing  a large  sheet 
of  water,  whereon  the  timid  or  seasick  yachtist 
may  disport  fearlessly  in  the  roughest  weather. 
The  comparatively  narrow  entrance  to  this  har- 
bor is  complicated  by  a sand-bar,  whereon  many 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET  I I 

gallant  ships  have  come  to  grief,  either  fatal  or 
transitory,  and  whereon  the  steamers  occasion- 
ally stick  for  a little  while  if  they  chance  to  ar- 
rive at  low  tide,  — involving  a small  excitement 
not  charged  extra  in  the  passage-money.  Guard- 
ing the  most  objectionable  point  of  this  sand-bar 
is  a bell-buoy,  whose  faint  note  of  warning, 
creeping  through  the  fog  or  storm  of  a dark 
day,  is  one  of  the  most  melancholy  sounds  im- 
aginable, — a sort  of  maritime  whip-poor-will ; 
and  this  reminds  one  to  notice  how  few  birds 
inhabit  Nantucket,  they  having  probably  gone 
off  with  the  trees  which  once  covered  the  island, 
and  are  now  extinct.  The  inhabitants,  however, 
aver  that  there  were  more  birds  during  the  last 
summer  than  for  many  previous  years ; and  this 
may  be  because  vegetation  is  also  on  the  in- 
crease, the  moors  becoming  more  floral  year  by 
year.  As  for  trees,  they  do  not  yet  thrive  : some 
public-spirited  individuals  have  tried  to  replace 
the  indigenous  growth  with  pitchpine  and  other 
varieties  of  evergreens ; but,  like  the  trees  in 
Amphion’s  neighbor's  garden,  — 

“ Though  fed  with  careful  dirt, 

The  poor  things  look  unhappy.” 

This  is  a digression ; and  it  is  well  to  warn  the 


12 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


reader  in  the  beginning  that  this  is  to  be  a book 
of  digressions,  following  the  order  of  events  in 
Mysie’s  sojourn  at  Nantucket,  — that  order  be- 
ing of  the  order  of  flight  pursued  by  the  dragon- 
flies above  a pool,  who  in  the  lazy  summer 
noons  give  the  only  touch  of  motion  to  the 
landscape  by  their  frantic,  zigzag  darting  hither 
and  yon,  yet  never  reach  any  point  beyond  the 
sleepy  little  pool  which  smiles  to  itself  at  the 
busy  idlers  above. 

The  steamer,  hugging  the  shore,  which  all 
around  Nantucket  shelves  steeply  to  the  sub- 
aqueous depths,  glides  around  Brant  Point,  al- 
lowing the  passengers  to  sun  themselves  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Bug-light  keeper,  — who  might  by  a 
little  exertion  shake  hands  with  the  pilot,  — and 
rounds  up  to  the  wharf  built  or  elongated  for 
her  accommodation.  And  here  let  the  philo- 
sophic tourist  pause  to  make  a study  of  the 
wharves  of  Nantucket,  remembering  that  the 
wharves  of  a maritime  place,  like  the  front-door 
of  a house,  the  hat  of  a man,  the  index  of  a book, 
are  infallible  telltales  of  the  prosperity  or  inter- 
ests beyond.  But  please  to  observe  that  “ in- 
terests” is  not  identical  with  interest  here,  for  the 
new  smug  pier,  still  smelling  of  cement,  and  with 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET 


13 


offensively  square  and  unworn  piles,  and  smart 
black  chains  innocent  of  rust  or  barnacle,  is  not 
nearly  as  interesting  as  the  creaking  old  wooden 
wharf,  gapped  all  around  like  an  old  man’s  teeth, 
and  with  half  its  boarding  gone  or  loose,  so  that 
one  feels,  with  a delicious  thrill,  that  to  stray 
down  here  on  a dark  night  might  end  the  gen- 
teel comedy  of  life  with  a bit  of  tragedy.  The 
gray  old  wharves  of  Newburyport,  of  Salem,  of 
Plymouth,  of  the  melancholy  Southern  ports,  of 
many  another  quaint  bygone  place  are  dear  to 
some  of  us,  — dear  as  nothing  of  to-day  could 
possibly  be ; but  probably,  in  the  calm  light  of 
reason,  the  wharves  of  Jersey  City  and  Oak  Bluffs 
are  more  indicative  of  commercial  prosperity  and 
the  presence  of  the  almighty  dollar.  Some  of 
us  love  the  dust  of  centuries,  some  of  us  love 
the  almighty  dollar ; and  as  only  twenty  miles 
of  water  lie  between  Nantucket  and  Oak  Bluffs, 
we  may  all  be  satisfied  almost  simultaneously. 

On  the  especial  evening  alluded  to,  the  “ Island 
Home  ” rounded  up  to  the  restored  yet  venera- 
ble wharf  assigned  her,  and  after  less  delay  than 
usual,  owing  to  the  absence  of  luggage,  ran  out 
her  gang-plank,  and  allowed  her  passengers  to 
land.  Mysie  tucked  the  “Inferno”  under  her 


H 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


arm,  and  landed  among  the  rest,  looking  about 
her  with  the  slightly  piqued  interest  attaching 
to  the  arrival  in  an  absolutely  new  locality,  re- 
ported to  have  features  of  novelty.  The  first 
one  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a mild  and  man- 
nerly hack-driver,  who,  leaving  his  passenger 
the  possibility  of  refusal,  requested  rather  than 
demanded  employment,  and  in  a patient  and 
paternal  manner  tried  to  induce  her  to  give  up 
her  checks,  — receiving  the  information  that  the 
baggage  had  not  come  as  one  receives  a child’s 
mistaken  notions  as  to  the  revolutions  of  the 
earth.  Mysie  cut  the  matter  short  by  getting 
into  his  carriage  and  looking  out  of  the  oppo- 
site window;  whereupon  the  fatherly  hackman 
went  away  to  look  up  the  baggage  without  a 
check,  and  having  probably  learned  the  truth 
from  some  masculine  intelligence,  came  quietly 
back,  mounted  his  box,  and  drove  leisurely  up 
into  town.  The  streets  of  Nantucket  were  once 
paved  with  cobble  stones,  very  probably  de- 
posited there,  in  the  glacial  period,  by  some 
drifting  iceberg  caught  upon  the  bar.  Naturally, 
after  this  considerable  interval,  they  are  now 
somewhat  uneven,  and  at  occasional  intervals 
are  ground  into  powder  by  ages  of  use;  still, 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET  15 

although  this  peculiarity  makes  driving  through 
the  streets  a somewhat  heroic  process,  causing 
those  still  in  possession  of  their  own  teeth  to 
congratulate  themselves  upon  the  fact,  no  right- 
minded  person  would  wish  to  see  these  alluvial 
cobbles  give  place  to  any  modern  innovation 
whatever.  One  melancholy  proof  of  the  cor- 
ruption of  civilization  to  be  noted  in  one’s  first 
observations  of  the  town  of  Nantucket  is  the 
prevalence  of  concrete  walks.  True,  the  nature 
of  the  sandy  soil  is  so  unstable  that  before  their 
appearance  no  man  could  prophesy  of  to-mor- 
row that  the  sidewalk  would  still  remain  where 
he  had  left  it  at  sunset;  but  this  was  the  nature 
of  Nantucket,  and  why  should  sinful  man  try  to 
improve  upon  Nature?  It  is  pleasing  to  per- 
ceive that  Nature  avenges  herself  by  so  shifting 
the  foundations  of  the  concrete  walks  that  the 
surface  is  compelled  to  give  way  at  intervals, 
leaving  crevasses  and  archipelagoes,  where  little 
islets  of  concrete  are  surrounded  by  creeks  of 
sand  and  debris , reminding  one  pleasantly  of  the 
footpaths  among  lava  deposits  in  lands  beyond 
the  seas.  Besides  the  cobbles  and  the  concrete, 
one  is  impressed,  in  a first  study  of  the  streets 
of  Nantucket,  with  their  accidental  character. 


i6 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


They  are  altogether  devoid  of  the  deliberate 
malice  of  the  streets  of  a city  starting  out  in 
life  as  a metropolis,  and  have  a lovely  flavor  of 
.Boston,  as  originally  laid  out  by  the  cows  of 
Mr.  Blackstone  and  his  immediate  successors,  in 
their  rambles  from  Spring  Lane  to  Cornhill,  and 
round  again  to  Milk  Street,  going  home  by  way 
of  Water  Street,  — although  in  those  days  the 
connection  between  Milk  and  Water  was  not  as 
close  as  in  these.  This  flavor  of  Boston  topog- 
raphy is  in  fact  foreshadowed  in  a sonnet  printed 
in  the  “ Transcript  ” some  two  years  since,  which 
might  be  here  appropriately  quoted : — 
“BOSTON. 

“ Cobwebbed  with  tangled  streets  the  old  town  lies,  — 
Streets  like  unravelled  threads  of  loitering  Fate, 

Who,  in  sweet  idlesse,  o’er  ways  intricate 
Spun  carelessly  a city’s  destinies. 

Quaint  peaked  roofs,  with  Pilgrim  histories, 

Rise  sharp  athwart  the  sky:  and  Time’s  estate,  — 

The  darkened  window-pane  (through  which  we  wait 
To  catch  a glimpse  of  far-off  ghostly  eyes), 

The  mildewed  wall,  the  ivy  old  that  shrouds 
Church  tower  and  gable  high,  the  graveyard  low, 

With  dates  o’ergrown,  ’tween  haunts  of  hurrying  crowds, — 
These  start,  like  phantoms  from  a long-ago, 

To  lure  the  stranger  at  the  sea-girt  gate, 

As  erst  they  lured  in  vision,  idling  Fate. 

Marie  LeBaron.” 


THE  GOING  TO  NANTUCKET 


17 


Murmuring  these  lines  to  herself,  Mysie  ar- 
rived at  her  destination,  a pleasant  house  in 
Pearl  Street,  where  by-and-by  she  fell  asleep, 
lulled  by  the  rhythm  of  the  far-off  surf  upon 
South  Shore. 

In  closing  this  chapter,  introductory  to  a cur- 
sory study  of  Nantucket,  we  may  quote  some 
verses  from  a poem  in  her  honor,  written  by  a 
child  of  the  soil,  and  called  “ My  Native  Isle.” 
They  appear  in  a quaint  little  volume  entitled 
“ Seaweeds  from  the  Shores  of  Nantucket,”  — a 
collection  of  indigenous  poems  by  various  pens, 
but  all  stamped  with  that  passionate  and  half- 
defiant  attachment  to  the  writers’  birthplace  so 
characteristic  of  islanders,  especially  when  the 
island  is  small,  bleak,  and  naturally  unattractive : 

“ Whence  sprung  my  Native  Isle  ? 

“ Oh,  was  it  severed  from  the  shore 
Of  neighboring  lands  in  days  of  yore 
By  strong  volcanic  shock  ? 

Hurled  into  the  Atlantic  Main 
A barren,  sandy,  dreary  plain, 

A bit  without  a rock  ? 

61  Perchance  it  floated  from  the  North, 

Issued  from  Zembla’s  regions  forth 
To  find  a kinder  sky  ; 


i8 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Perchance  it  may  again  set  sail, 

Propelled  by  Boreas’  favoring  gale, 

The  torrid  zone  to  try. 

“ Hence  all  ye  light  fantastic  schemes 
Teeming  with  fancy’s  flimsy  dreams, 

No  more  my  thoughts  beguile  ! 

It  is  not  in  your  power  to  tell 
What  tossed  it  up  on  Ocean’s  swell, 

Or  whence  my  Native  Isle. 

“ Undecked,  unlovely  as  thou  art, 

A speck  upon  the  world’s  great  chart, 

Thou  art  our  native  spot  ; 

And,  true  to  nature,  still  we  love, 

And  by  affection  still  we  prove 
Thy  faults  can  be  forgot. 

“ We  know  the  grandest,  loftiest  pines 
Have  left  to  grace  more  genial  climes, 

Yet  lovely  plants  here  thrive  ; 

The  violet  bland,  the  violet  blue, 

And  violet  of  cerulean  hue 
Betoken  spring ’s  alive. 

“ Thy  fatal  shores  and  sandy  shoals, 

Round  which  the  foaming  white-cap  rolls, 

All  hopes  of  safety  blast  ; 

The  pale,  affrighted  sailor  eyes 
The  dangers  that  around  thee  rise, 

And  turns  away  aghast. 

M.  M ” 


SCRAP  II. 

THE  BEING  THERE. 


HE  first  feature  of  Nantucket  noticeable 
in  the  morning  is  the  seven  o'clock 
bell  which  noisily  proclaims  from  the 
Unitarian  steeple,  or,  as  they  call  it,  the  “ tower," 
that  Nantucket  may  now  sit  down  to  breakfast, 
— it  being  taken  for  granted  that  all  properly- 
minded  people  are  up,  dressed,  and  well  on  with 
the  day’s  work  by  that  time.  Mysie  claims  to 
be  a properly-minded  person,  but  she  is  not 
matutinal  in  her  tastes,  and  had  not  slept  well 
amid  her  new  surroundings ; so  she  anathema- 
tized the  seven  o’clock  bell  with  all  the  force  of 
the  feeble  vocabulary  permitted  to  her  sex,  but, 
still  after  the  manner  of  her  sex,  obeyed  its 
summons ; and  having  made  such  a toilet  as  the 
absence  of  all  luggage  except  the  “ Inferno”  per- 
mitted, opened  her  window  and  viewed  Nantucket 
by  daylight.  Yes,  very  cobbly,  very  concrete, 
very  accidental ; but  very  blue  as  to  sky,  very 


20 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


odorous  and  verdant  as  to  the  garden  below  her 
windows,  very  crisp  and  sparkling  as  to  atmos- 
phere, very  satisfactory  in  that  nameless,  invisible, 
but  most  tangible  sympathetic  greeting  which 
some  new  scenes  extend  to  one,  and  some  others 
utterly  fail  of  possessing  or  offering.  To  borrow 
once  again  a word  not  quite  translatable,  Mysie, 
looking  in  the  eyes  of  Nantucket,  found  them 
simpatica , and  went  downstairs  well  pleased. 

At  the  front-door  stood  two  charming  young 
girls,  fresh  and  blithe  as  the  morning,  and  in- 
stantly suggesting  the  Rose  and  Blanche  of  a 
certain  novel  one  was  quite  sure  they  never 
could  have  read.  Framed  in  the  doorway  of  an 
inner  room  stood  the  handsome  hostess  with 
her  baby  in  her  arms,  presenting  the  picture 
of  mother  and  child  so  sanctified  to  Christian 
hearts  by  the  Mother  and  Child.  Beyond,  sat 
a lovely  old  lady  smiling  welcome  to  the  guest, 
who  felt  that  here  indeed  were  gathered  the  ele- 
ments of  a human  bouquet,  sweet  and  bright 
as  the  summer  morning  in  whose  radiance  all 
looked  their  best. 

Breakfast  over,  Rose  and  Blanche,  who  had 
been  in  Nantucket  before,  and  knew  the  lairs 
of  some  of  its  biggest  lions,  offered  to  show 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


21 


them  to  Mysie,  who  gladly  accepted  their  blithe 
guidance. 

“ What  would  you  like  to  see  first?  ” inquired 
Blanche,  the  younger  and  more  tireless  of  the 
two.  “ There  is  the  museum  with  the  sperm 
whale’s  jaw,  and  the  bric-a-brac  shops,  and  the 
wharves,  and  the  bathing-houses,  and  the  Uni- 
tarian bell  out  of  a Portuguese  convent,  and 
the  graveyards,  and  the  mill,  and  Mrs.  McCleve, 
and  the  old  house  on  Uriah  Gardner’s  Hill, 
and  — ” 

“ Please  ! ” exclaimed  Mysie,  holding  up  her 
hands,  “ it  is  such  an  embarrassment  of  riches 
that  I am  overwhelmed.  Let  us  begin  where 
you  left  off,  and  go  to  the  old  house  on  some- 
body’s hill.” 

“ Uriah  Gardner’s,”  replied  Blanche,  casting 
a glance  of  scrutiny  at  Mysie’s  feet.  “You 
want  the  very  tallest  shoes  you  have,  for  the 
sand  is  ankle-deep.” 

“ I should  say  knee-deep,”  said  Rose,  medi- 
tatively. “ And  I think  I will  take  my  bath,  if 
you  are  going  up  there.” 

“ Perhaps  you  would  rather  bathe  too,  this 
morning,”  suggested  Blanche  to  Mysie.  “We 
can  drive  to  Clean  Shore  for  ten  cents,  or  go 


22 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


over  in  the  ‘ Dauntless  ’ with  Captain  Burdette 
for  the  same  price.” 

“ Thanks,”  replied  Mysie,  meditatively.  “ It 
seems  to  me,  however,  as  I spent  the  most  of 
yesterday  floating  over  a watery  grave,  — noth- 
ing but  a plank,  you  know,  between  me  and 
eternity,  — it  would  be  an  appropriate  thing  to 
go  to  see  the  land-graves  to-day ; not  Alsatian, 
but  domestic.” 

Blanche  looked  puzzled,  but  with  a child’s 
charming  singleness  of  purpose  inquired,  “ Do 
you  mean  you  want  to  go  to  the  graveyard?” 

“ Yes,  my  dear,  although  not  to  remain ; and 
we  will  also  go  to  the  old  house  on  Uriah  Gard- 
ner’s Hill,  if  it  can  be  done  in  one  excursion.” 

“ Oh,  yes,  perfectly,”  replied  the  little  maid, 
blithely,  while  Rose  added,  — 

“ And  I will  go  to  bathe ; for  I was  at  the 
old  house  yesterday,  and  it  is  an  awfully  hot 
walk.” 

So  Mysie  and  her  charming  escort  set  bravely 
forth,  soon  leaving  the  concrete  behind,  and 
threading  lanes  and  laney  roads  where  old,  old 
houses  stood  elbowing  the  street,  or  where  shal- 
low depressions  in  the  thin,  tough  turf  showed 
where  homes  had  been  and  were  no  more.  One 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


23 


cause  of  these  depressing  depressions  is  a custom 
prevalent  in  Nantucket  at  one  time  of  moving  the 
houses  no  longer  needed  in  the  shrunken  town 
over  to  the  mainland,  — not  after  the  manner  of 
a snail,  who  walks  about  with  his  house  on  his 
back,  but  more  as  the  water-fowl  brings  twig  by 
twig  the  framework  of  her  future  mansion  to  its 
appointed  site.  Does  the  exact  reader  inquire, 
“Why  no  longer  needed ?”  The  answer  is  the 
history  of  Nantucket;  and  this  in  its  way  is  as 
full  of  romantic  and  melancholy  interest  as  that 
of  Acadia.  Looking  below  the  surface  matter  of 
detail,  such  as  oil  and  religion,  — there  being  no 
oil  in  Acadia,  and  no  religion  in  Nantucket, — 
the  great  revolutionizing  factors  of  the  two  his- 
tories remain  the  same ; or,  rather,  all  history 
is  a kaleidoscope  where  the  varying  effects  are 
produced  by  the  identical  dozen  bits  of  broken 
glass.  But  although  scraps  of  history  may  in- 
trude among  the  other  Nantucket  scraps  here 
collected,  it  will  not  be  of  malice  prepense ; so, 
turning  back  from  the  via  historical  we  will 
pass  at  once  out  of  the  end  of  the  last  street  in 
Nantucket  town  into  a Sahara  of  fathomless 
sand,  beyond  which  rises  a sharp  bluff,  breaking 
off  toward  the  road  in  an  acclivity,  up  the  face 


24 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


of  which  crawled  a path,  if  so  it  might  be  called, 
and  toward  this  path  Blanche  resolutely  took 
her  way,  saying,  — 

“ You  don’t  mind  climbing,  I hope?” 

“ Oh,  no ; not  in  a good  cause. 

* They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  of  heaven 
Through  peril,  toil,  and  pain.’ 

But  I hope  it  was  n’t  so  sandy,”  gasped  My- 
sie,  struggling  over  the  edge,  and  planting  her 
feet  upon  the  turf  as  firmly  as  might  be  in  the 
face  of  a wild  sea-wind  hurling  sand  and  salt 
needle-points  in  her  face  and  eyes.  And  here 
let  us  note  another  peculiarity  of  Nantucket: 
there  are  no  land-breezes,  simply  because  there 
is  not  land  enough  to  make  one.  The  island, 
lying  thirty  miles  out  at  sea,  and  measuring 
from  three  to  five  or  six  miles  in  width,  with 
no  high  land,  is  swept  from  shore  to  shore  by 
whatever  breezes  blow;  so  that,  as  an  invalid 
despondently  remarked,  to  stay  a summer  on 
Nantucket  was  the  same  as  making  a sea-voy- 
age, except  that  you  never  got  anywhere  or  had 
any  variety. 

“ Can  you  get  through  these  bars,  or  shall  I 
let  them  down?”  asked  Blanche,  on  whose  fair 
cheek  the  sea-roses  were  blooming  brightly. 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


25 


“Was  this  the  customary  approach  to  the 
house  when  it  was  inhabited  ?”  asked  Mysie, 
overcoming  the  obstacle  in  a manner  not  neces- 
sary to  specify. 

“ I dare  say  they  had  no  fence  in  those  days,” 
replied  Blanche,  meditatively.  “ There  ! is  n’t 
it  nice?” 

Anything  but  nice  in  the  nice  adaptation  of 
the  word,  for  it  was  very  much  decayed  and  out 
of  shape ; but  the  nicest  of  nice,  quite  too  alto- 
gether nice,  in  aesthetic  jargon,  for  it  was  but 
a ghost  of  a house,  with  great  holes  in  the  roof, 
chasms  in  the  chimney,  no  glass  in  the  boarded 
windows,  and  all  one  angle  so  eaten  away  by 
the  tooth  of  Time  and  the  east  wind  that  one 
might  put  one’s  finger  through  what  had  once 
been  solid  oak,  and  grasp  at  the  mouldered 
heart  of  the  old  home. 

On  the  front  of  the  great  stack  of  chimney 
filling  the  centre  of  the  building,  was  traced  with 
bricks  a symbol  commonly  called  a horse- shoe, 
intended  to  avert  the  attacks  of  witchcraft : 
some  archaeologists  say  it  is  the  letter  U (initial 
of  Uriah),  but  the  horse-shoe  theory  best  suits 
the  spirit  of  the  place.  In  Acadia  a man  pos- 
sessing faith  enough  to  spend  his  substance  and 


26 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


labor  in  placing  a protecting  symbol  upon  his 
house  would  have  chosen  the  Cross ; but  the  salt 
wind  sweeping  Nantucket,  in  those  early  days 
when  everybody  believed  in  at  least  something 
beyond  the  end  of  his  own  nose,  brought  in 
only  that  dim  phantom  of  superstition  which 
broods  over  the  waste  of  ocean,  and  infects  the 
hearts  of  those  who  live  amidst  its  vague  soli- 
tudes ; so  that  Mysie  — not  then,  but  after  months 
of  patiently  studying  the  soul  of  Nantucket  — 
knew  that  the  man  who  placed  that  horse-shoe 
upon  his  chimney  was  an  unhappy  man ; for  he 
was  born  to  believe,  and  Fate  had  placed  him 
in  this  outpost  of  Puritan  and  Quaker  nega- 
tion where  the  uprooting  of  the  old  faiths,  like 
the  uprooting  of  the  old  oaks,  has  left  only  a 
sterile  waste  instead  of  a generous  new  growth. 
Poor  Uriah  (if  that  was  his  name)  ! How  his 
horse-shoe  makes  one’s  heart  ache  by  its  mute 
appeal  for  protection  to  the  Unknown  God;  and 
how  one  wonders  that  neither  then  nor  now  has 
any  Paul  been  sent  to  interpret  with  resistless 
power*  the  Eternal  Mystery  to  those  who  smile 
at  the  horse-shoe,  yet  know  not  the  Cross  ! 

“ You  see  that  little  window  beside  the  front 
door?”  asked  Blanche,  pointing  to  three  panes 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


27 


of  glass  set  laterally  at  about  seven  feet  from 
the  ground. 

“ Yes.  What  an  odd  shape  and  position  ! ” 

“ That  was  for  the  women  to  look  out  and  see 
if  the  Indians  were  attacking  the  house.  Do 
you  know  about  Molly  Gardner  who  lived  here, 
and  the  Indian  who  dropped  through  the  roof?  ” 

“ No  ; tell  me  all  about  it.”  And  Mysie  luxu- 
riously seated  herself  on  the  short  worn  turf,  com- 
pacted by  the  pressure  of  the  hundreds  of  feet 
(so  quiet  now  !)  which  in  those  two  centuries  had 
gone  in  and  out  over  that  sunken  door-stone ; 
and  Blanche,  wandering  like  a kitten  around  her, 
told  the  story,  true  perhaps,  perhaps  not,  — for 
yet  another  peculiarity  of  Nantucket  is  its  utter 
apathy  with  regard  to  its  own  legends,  and  the 
impossibility  of  verifying  them.  One  hears  a 
vague  and  careless  story  from  one  person ; and 
painfully  seeking  to  amplify  and  establish  it 
from  other  sources,  is  generally  met  with  an  in- 
dulgent smile,  and  “Well,  I don’t  know,  I’m 
sure.  Maybe  it  is  so,  but  I don’t  seem  to  know. 
Perhaps  Grandma  So-and-so  would.”  The  stu- 
dent’s manifest  best  course  in  such  a dilemma 
as  this  is  eclecticism  ; and  if  a mathematical  con- 
science gives  him  trouble,  let  him  reflect  that 


28 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


most  history,  from  Herodotus  to  Taine,  has 
been  constructed  on  the  same  principle.  So 
Blanche's  blithe  voice  asserts,  with  no  perad- 
venture  in  its  tones, — 

“ There  was  a girl  named  Mary  Gardner, — 
some  people  say  Molly,  but  I thought  the 
Quakers  never  used  nicknames  nor  calico ; did 
they ? ” 

“ Quien  sabe  ? It  was  a great  while  ago,  little 
Blanche ; and  times  change,  and  Quakers  with 
them." 

“ Well,  I 'll  call  her  Molly,  because  I like  it 
better  myself.  You  see  the  Gardners  were  one 
of  the  old  families,  and  the  Coffins  were  an- 
other— " 

“The  F.  F.s  of  Nantucket,  so  to  speak,"  sug- 
gested Mysie. 

“Yes,  though  there's  a lot  more  of  them; 
did  you  ever  hear  the  old  verse? 

“ ‘ The  Rays  and  Russells  coopers  are, 

The  knowing  Folgers  lazy  ; 

A lying  Coleman  very  rare, 

And  scarce  a learned  Hussey. 

The  Coffins  noisy,  fractious,  loud, 

The  silent  Gardners  plodding  ; 

The  Mitchells  good,  the  Barkers  proud, 

The  Macys  eat  the  pudding.’ 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


29 


“ There  is  another  verse,  but  it  is  so  very  im- 
polite to  the  Pinkhams  that  I did  n’t  learn  it.” 

“ The  omission  does  you  credit,  my  child.  So 
this  is  the  Libro  d’Oro  of  Nantucket,”  suggested 
Mysie.  “ And  Molly  Gardner?  ” 

“ Molly  Gardner’s  father  wanted  her  to  marry 
Tristram  Coffin  — they  always  call  it  ‘ Trus- 
tum  ’ when  they  tell  the  story,  but  it  was  really 
Tristram.” 

“ And  Molly  was  really  Ysolde?  ” 

“ No,  she  did  n’t  love  him  as  Ysolde  did  that 
Tristram ; in  fact,  she  loved  somebody  else,  — 
some  ‘ off-islander,’  as  they  call  them  : they  used 
to  say  ‘ Coofs  ’ in  those  days,  and  now  they  say 
‘ strangers.’  Do  you  know  they  always  call 
going  to  the  mainland  ‘ going  to  the  continent’? 
Well,  Molly  loved  some  stranger  from  the  con- 
tinent, - — maybe  some  fisherman  from  Cape  Cod, 
— and  she  didn’t  want  to  marry  Trustum  at  all; 
but  her  father  and  mother  made  her,  because  of 
family  reasons,  — though  they  were  Friends,  and 
ought  n’t  to  have  cared,  you  know,  about  money, 
and  land,  and  things;  ought  they?  ” 

“ I suppose  Friends  were  human  in  th.ose 
days,  and  so  in  this  case  inhuman.  How  did 
Tristram  feel?” 


30 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ Oh,  he  wanted  very  much  to  marry  Molly, 
because  he  liked  her;  and  finally  he  was  going 
to  sea  on  a long  voyage,  and  he  said  if  they 
would  marry  her  to  him  he  would  go  directly 
on  board  his  ship,  and  leave  her  with  her  parents 
till  he  came  home;  but  he  wanted  to  make  sure 
of  her,  you  see.” 

“ What  a foolish  Trustum  ! Well?  ” 

“ Well,  all  this  while  Father  Gardner  had  been 
building  this  house  to  give  Molly  for  her  wed- 
ding present;  and  it  was  all  done,  and  they 
agreed  to  have  the  wedding  in  it;  and  then 
Molly  could  be  the  mistress,  though  her  mother 
would  stay  with  her  while  her  father  went  to 
sea,  — they  all  went  to  sea  in  those  days,  you 
know;  and  the  rooms  in  this  house  are  all 
braced  at  the  corners  with  oak  knees,  just  like 
a ship’s  cabin ; all  their  ideas  came  from  ships 
and  sea.  Well,  it  was  settled  that  way;  and 
Trustum’s  ship  was  all  ready,  and  the  wedding 
afternoon  came,  and  the  Friends  came  up  to 
marry  them.  Do  you  know  how  Friends 
marry?  ” 

“.They  should  n’t  marry  at  all.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because  they  should  be  lovers,  not  friends.” 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


31 


“ Oh,  well,  I mean  Quakers,  you  know.  They 
just  say  they  want  to  marry,  and  will  be  good 
to  each  other,  and  all  that ; and  then  they  sign 
a paper,  and  all  their  friends  who  are  there  sign 
it  too,  and  that  is  all.  They  don’t  have  a minis- 
ter or  anything.” 

“ God  forgive  them  ! ” said  Mysie,  fervently. 
“Well?” 

“Well,  the  time  came  for  Molly  to  get  ready, 
and  Molly  was  not  to  be  found  anywhere,  high 
nor  low,  in  the  old  house  or  the  new,  or  any- 
where ; and  there  was  the  greatest  time  looking 
for  her;  and  after  a while  they  found  her  down 
by  the  shore,  hiding  among  the  rushes  and  tall 
grass,  and  her  father  brought  her  in  at  the  back 
door,  and  there  was  her  mother  waiting  for  her; 
and  of  course  she  was  awfully  angry,  but  being  a 
Friend  she  could  n’t  scold,  and  all  she  said  was, — 
“ ‘ Molly  Gardner,  do  thee  go  straight  up- 
stairs and  put  on  thy  calico  gown  and  striped 
petticoat,  and  come  down  and  be  married.’ 

“ Now  what  puzzles  me  is,  being  Quakers, 
>w  did  she  come  to  have  a calico  gown  and 
riped  petticoat?” 

Blanche’s  forget-me-not  eyes,  demanding  re- 
ply, drove  away  the  image  of  that  other  girl, 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


32  / 

pale,  dishevelled,  despairing,  dragged  from  her 
poor  refuge  to  a hateful  marriage,  — her  des- 
perate eyes  yet  looking  down  through  all  these 
years  from  the  windows  of  that  upper  chamber 
whither  she  was  sent  to  deck  herself  for  the  sac- 
rifice,— and  Mysie  dreamily  replied, — 

“ 'Calico’  in  those  days  meant  only  the  cotton 
fabrics  of  Calicut.  It  might  have  been  dust- 
color  and  without  figures  ; and  the  petticoat  was 
perhaps  linsey-woolsey  striped  in  dust-and-ashes 
tints.  Did  she  do  it?  ” 

"Yes;  she  went  up  and  dressed  herself,  and 
came  down  and  was  married;  and  Tristram  and 
all  the  company  went  away,  and  he  sailed  that 
night,  and  was  gone  three  years,  and  then  he 
came  home,  and  they  lived  here.  I hate  to  tell 
that  part,  but  they  always  say  she  lived  to  be 
ninety  years  old,  and  had  lots  of  children,  and 
was  a very  hearty,  healthy  old  woman.” 

“ Poor  thing,  poor  thing!  That’s  the  saddest 
part  of  the  story,”  murmured  Mysie. 

u 4 Over-live  it  — lower  yet  — be  happy  ! wherefore  should 
I care  ? ’ ” 

“ And  the  Indians  who  lived  here  then  got 
cross  with  the  white  people,  and  one  of  them 


THE  BEING  THERE. 


33 


made  a hole  in  the  roof  and  dropped  down 
through  to  rob  and  murder  the  people;  and 
Molly  was  all  alone  in  the  house,  but  she  got 
away,  and  ran  down  to  her  father’s,  — and  there 
is  the  hole  in  the  roof  this  minute.” 

“ Proof  positive  ! Come,  d^jar  child,  let  us  go 
to  the  graveyard,”  said  Mysie,  rising.  For  in 
fact  the  graveyard  seemed  just  then  less  ghostly 
than  Molly  Gardner’s  old  house. 


SCRAP  III. 

Graveyards. 

N most  idle  and  imaginative  natures 
there  is  a certain  ghoulish  instinct 
which  leads  them  to  frequent  grave- 
yards, and  find  therein  certain  mysterious  food, 
so  satisfying  to  their  appetites  that  if,  in  return- 
ing home,  they  are  offered  the  good  wholesome 
diet  of  Mrs.  Jones’s  bonnet,  or  Mr.  Brown’s  red 
nose,  or  the  sweet  thing  in  politics  just  out,  they 
nibble  at  them  as  languidly  as  Amina  at  the 
rice,  or  perhaps  are  irritated  into  using  the  bod- 
kin upon  Sidi  Nonman’s  face. 

Nantucket  to  such  a person  offers  extraor- 
dinary advantages ; for  there  are  several  vener- 
able graveyards  wherein  the  oldest  portions 
show  neither  monument  nor  mound,  although 
the  graveyard  doors  are  metaphorically  closed, 
every  place  being  taken,  and  the  audience  wait- 
ing patiently  for  the  trumpet-blast.  Thus  the 
imagination  is  left  unusually  free  to  spin  its 


GRA  VE  YARDS. 


35 


subtile  webs  over  the  neglected  grass,  resem- 
bling tufts  of  dead  men’s  withered  hair;  the 
crawling  blackberry  vines,  whose  briers  clutch 
like  dead  women’s  fingers  at  one’s  garments 
as  they  trail  past;  and  the  thickets  of  alder  and 
willow  clustering  mysteriously  around  a dank 
hollow  at  the  back  of  the  Old  North,  like 
mourners  who  know  more  than  they  ever  will 
tell  of  the  secret  buried  at  their  feet. 

It  was  to  the  Old  North  that  Blanche  brought 
Mysie  on  this  first  morning,  and  showed  her 
various  quaint  inscriptions,  some  of  them  thrill- 
ing with  that  mysterious  pathos  peculiar  to 
death  at  sea.  Prominent  among  these  were 

three  lonely  graves  almost  lost  in  the  riotous 
growths  of  vines  and  grasses,  on  one  of  whose 
sunken  stones  Mysie  painfully  deciphered  — 

Here  lyes  buried 
Capt.  THOMAS  DELAP. 

Son  of  Mr.  James  Delap  and  Mrs.  Mary  bis  wife. 
He  was  cast  a shore  on  Nantucket 
Dec.  ye  6.  1771  ^ 

And  perisht  in  y Snow  storm  here. 

Aged  26  years  & 7 months. 

Just  think  a little  how  Mary,  wife  of  James  De- 
lap, felt  when  she  heard  of  her  boy  perishing  in 
the  snowstorm  on  that  December  night.  An- 


36 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


other  almost  identical  epitaph  on  the  neighbor- 
ing stone  tells  how  Amos  Otis,  aet.  19,  native 
of  Cape  Cod,  shared  the  shipwreck  and  the 
death,  as  now  the  resting-place,  of  his  youthful 
captain.  The  third  stone  says,  — 

THOMAS  DAUS 

Son  of  Mr.  Jona  and  Mrs.  Sarah  Daus 
Departed  this  life  at  Sea  Decembr  y 13th  1763 
in  y Lat.  38  Deg.  N.  Long.  63  Deg.  W.  in  y 19th  year  of 
his  age. 

And  whether  Daus  means  Davis  or  Daws  is  a 
question  for  the  Recording  Angel  to  answer, 
since  nobody  else  seems  to  know. 

These  three  graves  had  a peculiar  fascination 
for  Mysie;  and  many  a time  while  summer 
lasted,  and  again  when  late  November  keened 
shrilly  above  the  gray  stones  and  prostrate  herb- 
age, she  sat  beside  them  wondering  whether, 
when  the  sea  gives  up  its  own,  Thomas  Daus 
will  feel  any  ownership  in  this  his  memorial 
stone,  and  why  Amos  Otis  was  not  carried  back 

<r 

to  Cape  Cod,  and  what  were  the  incidents  of 
that  shipwreck  and  the  snow-storm  so  memor- 
able as  to  need  no  further  description  than  “ y 
Snow  storm.” 

“ See  my  roses  ! ” cried  little  Blanche,  skip- 


GRA  VE  YARDS. 


37 


ping  across  Amos  Otis,  and  presenting  a great 
bunch  of  blossoms  tinted  like  her  own  cheeks. 
“ They  are  deeper  colored  and  thicker  petalled 
here  than  anywhere  else.” 

“ They  are  vampires,  colored  and  nourished 
by  human  lives,”  said  Mysie,  eying  the  roses 
askance ; at  which  Blanche,  tinkling  out  her 
pretty  girl-laugh,  cried, — 

“ Perhaps  then  you  won’t  eat  the  blackberries 
when  they  come  along ! Don’t  you  see  all  the 
vines?  In  August  they  are  covered  with  great 
plump  blackberries,  perfectly  delicious  ones  ; and 
you  never  can  tell  at  the  table,  you  know,  whether 
they  were  picked  in  the  graveyard  or  not.” 

“ You  dreadful  little  ghoul ! But  both  the 
roses  and  blackberries  seem  to  grow  principally 
in  that  great  bare  space  in  the  middle  of  the 
ground.  Nearly  all  the  graves  are  beyond  it, 
and  these  few  are  on  this  side  of  it.” 

“ Oh,  it ’s  all  graves.  Papa  found  out  last 
summer  all  about  it.  The  first  settlers  didn’t 
believe  in  grave-stones,  perhaps  because  they 
had  n’t  any,  and  could  n’t  very  well  get  any ; and 
perhaps  because  they  had  n’t  any  churches  or 
ministers,  and  did  n’t  care  much  about  religion, 
and  so — just  buried  their  friends,  and  that  was 


38 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


all  about  it.  Then  the  Quakers  don’t  allow  any 
stones  put  up ; and  perhaps  at  first  they  buried 
here  before  they  had  a place  of  their  own,  and 
the  bad  example  hurt  the  others.  At  any  rate, 
all  this  middle  space  is  just  packed  close  with 
graves;  and  that’s  what  makes  all  these  little 
hollows  where  the  vines  grow  so  thick  and 
strong.  They  ’re  all  old  Nantucketers,  dead 
and  gone,  and  forgotten.” 

The  roses,  and  the  blithe  young  voice,  and 
the  sweet  strong  air  sweeping  in  from  seaward, 
made  a gracious  melody  in  the  summer  morn- 
ing; but  through  it  sobbed,  like  a minor  strain, 
those  words,  — the  knell  of  lives  so  sadly  hu- 
man, — “ Dead,  and  gone,  and  forgotten  ! ” 

“ Come  over  and  see  the  Gardners,”  pursued 
the  child.  “ You  know  this  is  sometimes  called 
the  Gardner  Burying-ground,  — for  1 believe 
they  started  it  for  themselves  originally,  and 
then  the  North  Church  adopted  it.  Then  the 
Gardners  were  always  marrying  the  Coffins,  and 
about  half  the  stones  announce  that  fact,  like 
this  one : you  see  Mercy  Ann  was  wife  of  Seth 
Coffin  and  daughter  of  Amariah  Gardner;  and 
next  door  is  Rebecca,  wife  of  Obed  Gardner 
and  daughter  of  Peter  Coffin.  Now  see  the 


GRAVEYARDS . 


39 


long  row  at  the  back  there,  just  solid  Gardners; 
is  n’t  it  nice?  ” 

“ Oh,  very  nice,”  replied  Mysie,  laughing,  as 
she  struggled  through  briers  and  knee-deep  tan- 
gled grass,  and  all  sorts  of  lawless  growths,  to 
read  the  brief  yet  so  suggestive  records  of  lives, 
each  one  with  its  own  story,  — its  triple  story  of 
a soul  as  it  knew  itself,  as  men  knew  it,  as  God 
knew  it.  A graveyard  is  so  like  an  index, — but 
the  book  is  out  of  reach.  Coming  back  from 
the  Gardner  corner,  the  friends  strayed  around 
among  the  gray  old  stones,  painfully  deciphering 
beneath  lichen  and  mould  the  epitaphs,  which 
Mysie  after  a while  discovered  bore  one  painful 
likeness, — they  were  eminently  without  faith  and 
without  hope : the  mere  wail  of  desolation  from 
mourners  feeling  themselves  eternally  bereaved, 
or  else  the  stoical  confession  of  defeat.  Promi- 
nent in  the  latter  class  was  this  of  a young  man : 

“When  soul  and  body  did  unite 
In  me  my  parents  took  delight 
The  scene  is  changed  the  seperation  made, 

And  I am  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Now  young  and  old  may  plainly  see 
Y*  youth  was  no  defence  to  me, 

For  deaths  dread  call  we  must  obey 
And  mingle  with  our  parent  clay.” 


40 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Another,  of  a wife  aged  twenty-nine : — 

“ The  old  must  die  and  leave  the  stage 
The  young  may  die  you  see, 

But  I was  called  in  middle  age, 

Prepare  to  follow  me.” 

Again : — 

“ My  years  are  scarcely  twenty  eight 
As  you  may  plainly  see ; 

Stoop  down  my  friends,  and  weep  for  joy, 

For  you  must  lye  with  me” 

Contrast  these  with  two  or  three  in  the  old 
burying-ground  of  Provincetown,  the  tip  of  Cape 
Cod:  — 

“•Depart  my  friends,  dry  up  your  tears 
I must  lye  here  till  Christ  appears.” 

And  here  is  one  reminding  us  of  Pope  Greg- 
ory’s exclamation  when  he  saw  the  captive  Brit- 
ish children  in  Rome.  “ Angles  ! ” quoth  he ; 
“ they  should  rather  be  called  angels.” 

“Two  more  little  angles 
Gone  to  Heaven.” 

Another  from  Provincetown  is,  — 

“ Here  lyes  ye  body  of  a blooming  youth 
His  dying  expressions  were  goodness  and  truth 
His  weeping  friends  around  hearing  him  say 
Come  my  sweet  Lord  and  take  me  away.” 


GRAVEYARDS. 


41 


And  this,  byway  of  consolation  to  a widower: 

“ The  great  Creator  wise  and  trew 
Has  an  undoubted  right  to  reign 
He  made  and  lent  her  unto  you 
Till  he  should  call  for  her  again.” 

Another  widower  makes  his  own  confession 
of  faith  thus  : — 

“ As  I passed  by  with  grief  I see 
That  my  dear  wife  is  taken  from  me 
Taken  by  One  that  had  a right  — 

Thank  God  to  Heaven  she  took  her  flight.” 

Provincetown  can  perhaps  claim  no  superiority 
of  diction  or  poetic  afflatus,  but  it  has  that  faith 
which  is  able  to  move  mountains  of  ignorance 
and  dulness.  Let  us  not,  however,  be  too  severe 
on  the  lack  of  faith  in  Nantucket,  for  in  a grave- 
yard of  Newton,  close  to  Boston,  stands  a stone 
bearing  this  heathen  inscription : — 

“ Beneath  this  stone  our  little  boys 
Our  hopes,  our  comforts  and  our  joys 
Down  to  the  tomb  they  now  have  gone 
And  left  their  parents  here  to  mourn. 

Down  to  the  grave  they  now  have  gone 
While  in  the  days  of  youthful  morn 
Tears  from  our  eyes  how  free  they  flow 
Our  little  boys  we  see  no  more. 

Beneath  the  ground  on  which  we  tread 
Now  they  lie  numbered  with  the  dead.” 


42 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


In  the  Newton  burying-ground  is  also  this 
epitaph : — 

“ Sweet  Babe  ! 

He  glanced  into  this  world  to  see 
A sample  of  our  miserie. 

He  tasted  of  lifes  bitter  cup 
Refus’d  to  drink  the  potion  up 
Then  turn’d  his  little  head  aside 
Disgusted  with  the  taste,  and  died.” 

Enough  of  epitaphs,  although  there  are  many 
more,  in  each  of  these  graveyards,  following 
the  school  of  those  quoted ; and  also  many  of 
the  conventional  oddities  rife  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, as, — 

Traveller  pause  as  you  pass  by 
As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I, 

As  I am  now  so  you  shall  be, 

Prepare  to  die  and  follow  me.” 

Reminding  one  of  Montgomery's  melancholy 
lines : — 

“ Once  in  the  course  of  ages  past 
There  lived  a man,  and  who  was  he  ? 

Reader  where  e’er  thy  lot  be  cast 
That  man  resembled  thee ! ” 

Over  one  very  young  married  woman  in  the 
Gardner  Burying-ground  is  placed,  but  without 
credit,  rare  Ben  Jonson’s  famous  and  lovely 
epitaph : — 


GRAVEYARDS. 


43 


<c  Underneath  this  stone  cloth  lie 
As  much  beauty  as  could  die  ; 

Which  in  life  did -harbour  give 
To  as  much  virtue  as  doth  live.” 

The  oldest  certified  grave  upon  the  island 
stands  alone  upon  a wind-swept  hill  near  the 
site  of  the  original  town,  then  called  Sherburne. 
It  is  said  that  the  hill-side  was  once  a grave- 
yard ; but  the  only  visible  proofs  remaining  are 
one  stone  with  its  legend  quite  obliterated,  and 
another  in  tolerable  preservation,  stating,  — 

Here  lyes  ye  body  of 
JOHN  GARDNER 

Who  was  born  in  ye  year  1624  and  died  1706  aged  82. 

Town  history  states  that  this  veteran  bore  the 
title  of  Captain ; was  a magistrate,  and  a worthy 
and  honorable  man.  Private  enterprise  has 
within  the  year  erected  a rather  pretentious 
monument,  surrounded  by  an  iron  fence,  close 
beside  this  grave,  pointing  out  its  antiquity  and 
giving  the  names  of  several  other  worthies,  con- 
temporaries of  Captain  John,  and  very  possibly 
buried  in  undiscernible  graves  around  him;  but 
although  highly  respectable,  the  monument 
strikes  one  as  a little  impertinent,  and  the  effect 
of  the  two  gray  old  stones  decently  crumbling 


44 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


into  dust  on  that  lonely  hill-side,  with  the  sea 
— the  same  sea  by  which  these  men  walked  and 
toiled,  and  lived  and  died  — whispering  their 
story,  and  the  midnight  winds  making  moan 
over  their  graves,  and  the  creeping  grasses 
folding  them  ever  closer  and  closer,  — all 
these  seem  more  harmonious  alone,  than  with 
the  # addition  of  a big  red-and-white  and  iron- 
fenced  monument. 

But  Nantucket  is  proud  of  the  monument,  and 
it  does  not  become  her  guests  to  be  hyper- 
critical. 

The  most  pathetic  spot  in  Nantucket,  however, 
is  in  the  least  interesting  of  her  many  burying- 
grounds ; that  is,  the  newest  and  most  pretentious, 
abounding  in  heaps  of  barren  gravel  suggestive 
of  unhealed  wounds,  in  smart  new  monuments 
of  white  marble  with  gilt  letters,  in  rusty  and 
broken  wooden  fences,  in  attempted  drive-ways 
and  gravelled  paths.  But  quite  at  the  back  of  this 
melancholy  cemetery,  — for  it  scorns  the  name  of 
graveyard  or  burying-ground,  — lies  a level  par- 
allelogram containing  twenty-one  graves,  as  close 
to  each  other  as  they  can  lie.  They  are  chiefly 
the  nameless  crew  of  the  ship  “ Newton”  of  Ham- 
burg, wrecked  off  the  South  Shore  on  Christmas 


GRA  VE  YARDS. 


45 


Eve,  1865  ; and  of  all  the  twenty-seven  men  on 
board  only  one  reached  the  shore  alive.  It  snowed 
and  blew  furiously  that  night;  and  the  sailors' 
wives  and  widows  in  Nantucket  shivered  by  their 
firesides  as  they  listened  to  the  howling  of  the 
wind  and  the  savage  hammering  of  the  surf  on 
South  Shore  three  miles  away.  They  did  not 
know  all  the  horror  of  that  night,  however ; for 
some  time  in  its  darkness  one  poor  naked  crea- 
ture, cast  ashore  by  those  savage  billows,  crawled 
up  out  of  their  reach,  and,  fighting  for  life  as 
only  a strong  man  can  fight,  got  to  his  feet  and 
staggered  on  to  find  shelter  and  help.  Naked, 
blinded  by  sleet  and  driving  sand,  exhausted, 
chilled,  he  fought  on  and  on,  falling  now  and 
again  (for  they  found  the  scars  he  left  on  the 
cruel  snow),  and  then  up  and  on,  until  he  came 
within  sight  of  a farm-house ; saw  perhaps  the 
fire-light  and  the  cheerful  flicker  of  the  lantern 
as  the  farmer  looked  that  his  beasts  were  warm 
and  safe,  and  then  he  fell,  and  rose  no  more  — 
in  this  world. 

Christmas  Eve ! When  and  how  did  that  soul 
going  out  in  agony  and  strife  keep  its  Christmas 
day? 

Go,  you  who  find  nothing  more  to  interest 


46 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


you  in  this  worn-out  world,  — go  to  South  Shore 
in  November,  and  wandering  off  into  the  desolate 
moor  sit  down  with  only  the  wind  and  the  sky 
for  company,  and  picture  to  yourself  that  Christ- 
mas Eve  and  that  soul  and  body  fighting  for 
life  ! The  body  was  defeated,  but  perhaps  the 
soul  won  a glorious  victory. 

The  crew  of  the  “ Newton  ” do  not  lie  alone 
in  their  nameless  graves.  That  same  Christmas 
Eve,  the  schooner  “ Haynes  ” from  St.  Domingo 
was  wrecked  on  the  western  end  of  the  island, 
with  most  unnecessary  loss  of  life;  for  when 
the  Humane  Society’s  boat  reached  her,  the 
vessel  was  unbroken,  and  the  cabin  warm,  with 
a good  fire  in  the  stove;  but  the  crew  had  taken 
to  the  boat,  and  all  perished  in  the  furious  surf : 
the  boat  and  oars  with  one  dead  body  were 
found  upon  the  beach,  and  other  bodies  were 
afterwards  recovered.  All  the  ministers  of  the 
island  participated  in  the  funeral  rites  over  these 
poor  relics ; and  although  not  one  of  the  dead 
was  known  even  by  name  to  those  who  mourned 
him,  the  tie  of  common  brotherhood,  so  sweet 
and  dear  at  such  a time,  asserted  itself ; and 
many  wept  the  cruel  death,  and  some  few  prayed 
that  all  might  still  be  well  with  those  so  suddenly 


GRAVEYARDS. 


47 


called  within  the  vail.  And  this  is  but  one  of 
numberless  stories  of  wreck,  heroic  effort,  noble 
lives  and  noble  deaths  whose  indices  are  to  be 
found  in  the  graveyards  of  Nantucket. 


SCRAP  IV. 

DIONIS. 

Y dear,  what  horrible  thing  has  hap- 
pened? ” exclaimed  Mysie,  clinging  to 
Blanche’s  slender  arm  for  protection, 
and  staring  at  one  of  the  many  angles  of  the 
homeward  road,  around  which  a medley  of  sound 
came  bearing  down  upon  them,  suggesting  im- 
mediate and  rapid  flight.  But  Blanche’s  laugh 
was  reassuring,  and  Mysie  suffered  herself  to  be 
led  onward  as  she  received  the  information,  — 

“ Oh,  that ’s  only  Billy, — Billy  Clark,  you  know, 
— the  town-crier,  although  I believe  on  the  whole 
he  cries  on  his  private  account  and  not  for  the 
town.  Twice  a day  when  the  boat  comes  in  he 
is  down  on  the  wharf,  and  before  they  really  stop 
somebody  throws  him  a bundle  of  newspapers, 
and  he  sets  forth,  reading  scraps  as  he  goes, 
and  then  crying  the  news  as  he  understands  it. 
Sometimes  he  makes  rather  droll  mistakes, — 
as,  for  instance,  when  he  announced,  ‘ Great 


DIONIS. 


49 


battle  at  Molasses  Junction  ! Meat  auction  this 
evening ! ’ But  I ’m  sure  we  should  do  worse  if 
we  tried  to  blow  a horn,  and  ring  a bell,  and 
read  the  newspaper,  and  cry  the  news,  and  walk 
like  a steam-engine  all  at  once,  should  n’t  we?  ” 

“ Indeed  we  should,”  fervently  replied  Mysie. 
“ So  that  dreadful  bray  is  a horn,  is  it?  ” 

“ Yes  ; a great  big  one,  like  what  the  angels  on 
the  steeple  of  that  church  in  Boston  have.  You  ’ll 
see  it  in  a minute,  and  then  a great  bell  like  a 
hotel  dinner-bell ; and  the  rest  is  his  voice.” 

“ Oh,  his  voice,  is  it?  I did  n’t  think  of  a voice 
exactly,”  said  Mysie,  meditatively. 

“ Well,  you  see,”  replied  Blanche  in  an  apolo- 
getic tone,  “ he  was  very  much  excited  in  the 
time  of  the  war ; and  there  was  a good  deal  of 
news,  and  he  cried  too  much  and  too  loud,  and 
‘ sort  of  wore  out  his  voice,’  as  the  Captain  says. 
But  he ’s  very  nice  and  obliging ; and  though  you 
can’t  tell  a word  he  says  when  he  cries,  if  you  stop 
him  and  ask  the  news,  he  ’ll  tell  you  all  about 
it  in  a voice  just  like  anybody.  And  he  knows 
everything  about  the  shipping  and  all  that ; it  is 
quite  a mystery  how  he  gets  hold  of  it  some- 
times.” 

“ I suppose  he  gives  his  entire  mind  to  it,  as 
4 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


50 

the  young  man  in  ‘ Punch ' did  to  tying  his 
cravat/'  suggested  Mysie. 

“I  suppose  he  does,"  replied  Blanche,  placidly. 
“ Anyway,  he  gives  his  entire  time ; for  he  watches 
up  in  the  church  tower  noon  and  night  until  the 
boat  appears  in  sight,  sometimes  just  leaving  the 
Vineyard,  and  then  he  gives  a tremendous  blast 
of  his  horn  north,  south,  east,  and  west,  just  like 
those  Back-Bay  angels,  you  know  ; and  so  every- 
body knows  the  boat  is  coming,  and  most  every- 
body goes  down  to  see  her  come  in.  Then,  too, 
he  sees  all  the  schooners  or  larger  vessels  that 
are  coming  in  or  going  by,  and  he  cries  all  that 
sort  of  information  without  getting  anything  for 
it.  He  always  tells  when  the  barges  are  coming 
with  stone  for  the  jetty  they  are  building  to  pro- 
tect the  harbor;  and  when  the  first  ones  came 
into  the  harbor  he  shrieked  all  over  town,  ‘ The 
jetty's  at  the  wharf!  The  jetty's  at  the  wharf!  ' 
Then  between  the  boats  he  cries  announcements 
of  meat  auctions,  and  temperance  lectures,  and 
picnics  at  South  Shore,  and  lady's  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs and  bags  and  knitting-work  strayed  or 
stolen,  or  in  fact  anything  anybody  wants  every- 
body else  to  know.  Here  he  is." 

And  around  the  corner  rushed  a spare  athletic 


DIONIS. 


SI 


figure,  “ hasting  by  like  a post  who  tarrieth  not,” 
yet  finding  time  for  a good-natured  glance  and 
nod,  and  then  a roar  no  doubt  kindly  intended  to 
carry  a private  revelation  to  the  “ women-folks,” 
for  whom  Billy  is  said  to  entertain  a special 
kindness,  but  which  in  this  instance  failed  to 
convey  any  information  to  their  uncultured 
ears. 

“ There ’s  the  one  o’clock  bell,”  remarked 
Blanche.  “ You  must  go  up  the  Unitarian  steeple 
and  see  that  bell  some  day ; it  has  a story  like 
everything  else  here.  But  dinner  is  ready,  and  I 
do  believe  there ’s  papa  ! ” 

The  boat  had  brought  an  influx  of  visitors,  in- 
cluding not  only  Blanche’s  papa  and  mamma, 
but  the  senor  and  senora,  with  several  young 
people,  to  whose  society  Mysie  felt  that  she 
must  resign  her  blithe  little  comrade,  comforting 
herself,  however,  in  the  air  of  fresh  young  life 
and  buoyant  merriment  surrounding  unspoiled 
and  really  young  young  people,  becoming,  alas  ! 
more  the  exception  than  the  rule  in  American 
society  and  at  American  watering-places. 

“Now  let  us  begin  to  do  something  Nantuck- 
ety ! ” cried  Harry,  as  the  party  rose  from  dinner 


52 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


and  swarmed  out  upon  the  porch,  chattering  all 
at  once  like  a flock  of  blackbirds. 

“Yes,  let  us  go  to  South  Shore,  — to  Surf 
Side,  I mean/’  replied  Blanche  eagerly.  “We 
have  saved  it  till  you  came.  Oh,  papa,  the  en- 
gine is  named  “ Dionis  ” after  the  first  Tristram 
Coffin's  wife ; and  when  it  whistles  they  say  Di- 
onis is  shrieking  at  the  invasion  of  Coofs.” 

“Coofs?"  echoed  Mysie,  anxious  to  gather 
every  crumb  of  Nantucket  lore  drifting  past. 

“Yes,  that's  our  old  Nantucket  politeness  to- 
ward strangers,"  remarked  the  senor,  who  after 
a score  or  so  of  years  among  the  Spaniards  had 
returned  to  visit  his  birth-place,  with  the  appre- 
ciation only  long  exile  gives.  “ Your  Nantucketer 
of  fifty  years  ago  was  a good  deal  like  a Chinese 
map-maker,  who  draws  a circle  touching  the  four 
sides  of  his  paper  for  China,  and  puts  the  rest  of 
the  world  in  the  corners." 

“ Or  like  the  boys  of  Marblehead  of  the  same 
epoch,  who,  when  a stranger  appeared  in  town, 
cried,  ‘ Hullo  ! here 's  a man  ! Let 's  rock  him  !’  " 
“Rock  him  in  a cradle  did  they  mean?"  in- 
quired Blanche,  innocently. 

“ They  meant,  stone  him  ; only  they  were  such 
a vigorous  set  of  urchins  that  nothing  less  than 


moms. 


53 


rocks  would  serve  them  for  missiles,”  explained 
her  papa. 

“ But  why  Coofs?”  persisted  Mysie. 

“ Quien  sabe /”  exclaimed  the  senor,  with  an 
unconscious  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  eye- 
brows. “It  was  a Nantucket  word,  that’s  all, 
and  it  has  gone  out  of  fashion ; now  they  call 
their  visitors  strangers,  or  off-islanders, — just  as 
in  New  York  they  call  Jews  Israelites  after  they 
get  into  Fifth  Avenue.” 

“ If  we  are  going  to  Surf-side  it  is  time  to 
start,”  suggested  Blanche.  “ Dionis  shrieks  at 
two.” 

“ But  the  conductor  takes  a good  look  up 
Main  Street  before  he  steps  aboard,  and  if  any 
old  lady  is  seen  turning  the  corner  he  waits  for 
her,”  laughed  Rose. 

“ Suppose  we  three  go  on  and  tell  them  the 
rest  are  coming,”  suggested  Harry,  with  elabo- 
rate carelessness. 

“ Run  along  if  you  like,”  said  papa,  good- 
naturedly. 

“ Improvements  are  not  always  betterments,” 
said  the  senor  to  Mysie,  who  was  rather  wistfully 
watching  the  three  young  things  tripping  away 
so  merrily.  “ In  my  day,  the  girls  and  I walked 


54 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


all  the  way  to  South  Shore  instead  of  down  to 
the  depot.  Three  miles  out  and  three  back,  and 
then  we  were  ready  to  dance  all  night,  and  go 
fishing  next  morning.” 

“ Each  generation  is  more  heroic  in  its  enjoy- 
ments than  the  succeeding  one,”  said  Mysie,  cyn- 
ically. “ Fifty  years  from  now  it  will  be  sufficient 
for  the  young  man  to  recline  with  a lily  in  his 
hand,  while  the  girls  read  him  poems  about  the 
sounding  sea.  It  will  be  quite  too  fatiguing  to 
go  and  look  at  it.” 

“ Come,  come,  you  two  ! ” exclaimed  the  jovial 
papa,  ‘‘the  cakes  and  ale  are  not  all  gone  yet; 
come  on,  and  let  us  have  our  share.” 

So,  over  asphalt  and  cobble,  past  the  museum 
where  the  sperm  whale’s  jaw  still  patiently  bided 
its  time,  and  down  the  sunny  Main  Street 
streamed  the  gay  party,  until  at  the  corner  of  a 
transverse  street  they  came  upon  a vehicle  very 
like  an  exaggerated  open  street-car,  the  seats 
almost  filled  with  passengers,  upon  whose  faces 
rested  a nearly  universal  smile,  — that  shame- 
faced and  yet  expectant  character  of  smile  ob- 
servable on  the  countenances  of  the  people  who 
adventure  in  the  merry-go-round  at  a picnic,  or 
who  ride  in  the  elephant’s  howdah  at  a circus, 


DIONIS. 


55 


or  who  honestly  respond  to  the  mesmerizer’s 
call  for  subjects  at  a lecture : people,  in  fact, 
who  wish  to  try  a new  amusement,  but  feel  it 
to  be  both  risky  and  ridiculous. 

The  old  lady  who,  at  the  opening  of  the  Fitch- 
burg road,  requested  the  conductor  to  “ drive 
kind  o’  easy  along  at  first, ” as  she  was  n’t 
sure  she  ’d  like  it,  was  probably  not  there ; 
but  her  sisters,  her  cousins,  and  her  aunts  all 
were,  and  the  family  likeness  was  striking. 

Rose,  Blanche,  and  Harry  had  secured  the 
rear  seat  as  affording  the  best  view  of  the  coun- 
try ; and  no  sooner  were  the  party  placed  than 
Dionis,  uttering  a dismal  shriek,  set  off,  amid 
peals  of  laughter  from  not  only  the  passengers 
but  the  knot  of  spectators  waiting  about,  as  if  a 
newT  whaler  were  to  be  launched.  This  good- 
humored  merriment  was  in  point  of  fact  part 
of  the  rolling  stock  of  the  road,  and  extended 
through  all  classes  of  people  concerned  with  it : 
the  man  who  rang  the  bell  always  rang  it  as  if  he 
were  firing  a bunch  of  crackers  under  the  school- 
master’s chair ; the  conductor  announced  the  way 
stations  of  “ Washington  Street”  and  “ Hooper’s” 
with  the  genial  smile  of  a man  propounding  a 
funny  conundrum;  and  when  on  the  return  trip 


56 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


he  announced  “ Nantucket,”  it  never  failed  to 
evoke  a peal  of  laughter,  in  which  he  usually 
joined.  On  several  occasions  persons  came 
running  across  the  fields  waving  their  hands  to 
arrest  the  train,  which  never  failed  to  stop  and 
take  them  aboard;  and  once  the  conductor, 
with  his  hand  on  the  string,  called  to  some 
pedestrian  friend,  “Want  to  ride?”  and  looked 
quite  grieved  that  the  offer  should  be  re- 
fused. 

Past  the  deserted  candle-works,  the  closed 
warehouses,  the  crumbling  wharves,  which  tell  of 
Nantucket’s  decadence  as  a whaling  port,  and 
out  upon  the  beautiful  moors  not  just  here  to  be 
described,  and  on  through  the  balmy  yet  invigo- 
rating southerly  wind,  until  Dionis,  with  a scream 
of  angry  protest  at  not  being  allowed  to  carry 
her  freight  clear  over  the  bluff  and  into  the  sea, 
stopped  short,  and  the  passengers  clambering 
down  made  their  way  through  piles  of  lumber, 
and  past  the  two  great  barracks  in  building  for 
skating  rink  and  restaurant,  to  the  edge  of  a 
steep  bluff,  below  which  boomed  disdainfully  the 
mighty  sea,  defying  man  to  encroach  by  one 
little  inch  upon  the  domain  he  claims  to-day,  as 
he  claimed  it  centuries  and  aeons  before  man, 


DIONIS. 


57 


white  or  red,  came  to  gaze  upon  his  grandeur. 
A very  noticeable  feature  of  this  shore,  as  of  that 
at  Sconset  and  all  along  the  southern  coast  of 
Nantucket,  is  the  loneliness  of  the  sea  view.  No 
sail  shimmers  out  from  the  deep  blue  of  sky 
and  water,  no  plume  of  smoke  announces  the 
passage  of  a steamer,  no  pleasure-boat  dances 
over  those  stately  and  ponderous  waves ; the 
whole  expanse,  unlimited  save  for  the  limits  of 
man’s  vision,  and  the  curve  of  the  little  globe 
he  inhabits,  is  as  lonely  to-day  as  on  that  when 
Columbus  stood  arguing  the  existence  of  a new 
world  before  the  royalty  of  Spain.  The  reason 
given  is  twofold ; this  tract  of  water  is  out  of  the 
regular  course  of  either  outward  bound  or  coast- 
ing vessels,  and  moreover  it  is  so  dangerous,  with 
its  sunken  reefs,  its  strong  currents,  and  its  furi- 
ous winds,  that  prudent  navigators  will  avoid  it 
when  they  can.  It  was  off  this  South  Shore  that 
the  “ Newton”  came  to  her  end  that  Christmas 
Eve,  when  every  man  on  board  was  lost;  and 
here,  too,  it  was  that  Thomas  Delap  and  Amos 
Otis  were  “cast  a-shore  and  perisht  in  ye  snow- 
storm there.”  And  as  one  listens  to  the  vivid 
reminiscences  of  some  of  the  old  people  who 
have  witnessed  as  many  wrecks  as  they  are  years 


58 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


old,  or  culls  the  information  from  scattering 
records  and  histories,  one  learns  to  look  over 
this  great  field  of  stern  and  threatening  waters 
with  a feeling  very  different  from  that  evoked  by 
an  ordinary  summer  sea,  busy  with  human  traffic, 
or  gay  with  human  pleasure. 

Hector  St.  John,  who  visited  Nantucket  in 
1782,  and  gives  his  impressions  of  it  in  a charm- 
ing old  book  called  “ Letters  of  an  American 
Farmer,”  speaks  of  this  watery  waste  in  these 
words : — 

“ This  island,  as  has  been  already  hinted,  appears 
to  be  the  summit  of  a huge  sandy  mountain  affording 
some  acres  of  dry  land  for  the  habitation  of  man ; 
other  submarine  hills  lie  to  the  southward  of  this,  at 
different  depths  and  distances.  This  dangerous  region 
is  well  known  to  mariners  by  the  name  of  Nantucket 
Shoals.  These  are  th^  bulwarks  which  so  powerfully 
defend  this  island  from  the  impulse  of  the  mighty 
ocean,  and  repel  the  force  of  its  waves,  which  but 
for  the  accumulated  barriers  would  ere  now  have  dis- 
solved its  foundations  and  torn  it  in  pieces.  These 
are  the  banks  which  afforded  to  the  first  inhabitants 
of  Nantucket  their  daily  subsistence,  as  it  was  from 
these  shoals  that  they  drew  the  origin  of  that  wealth 
which  they  now  possess,  and  was  the  school  where 
they  first  learned  to  venture  farther,  as  the  fish  of 
their  coast  receded.” 


DIONIS . 


59 


From  this  point  of  view  the  “ Rips/’  as  these 
foam-covered  banks  are  called,  gain  a new  dig- 
nity ; and  it  is  quite  true  that  they  alone  break 
the  force  of  the  wave  starting  from  the  shores 
of  Africa  and  aiming  at  the  destruction  of 
Nantucket. 

“ Come  downstairs  and  sit  on  the  sands,” 
cried  Blanche,  running  back  from  the  steps  to 
where  Mysie  stood  awe-stricken  and  silent  before 
this  majesty  of  loneliness.  So  down  the  wooden 
steps,  whose  base  is  often  washed  by  the  waves 
now  rolling  three  or  four  hundred  feet  away, 
they  went,  and  after  strolling  for  a while  through 
the  fatiguing  sand  sat  down  upon  shawls  and 
gave  themselves  to  the  never-wearying  fascina- 
tion of  watching  the  long  waves  roll  in,  comb 
over  with  the  sunlight  burnishing  to  gold  the 
green  concave  of  the  glorious  curve,  and  then 
break  thunderously  upon  the  sand, — the  foam 
now  and  again  rushing  up  to  overwhelm  some 
group  of  unwary  loungers,  who  sprang  laughing 
to  their  feet  and  scuttled  ignominiously  out  of 
reach.  One  of  Mysie’s  favorite  occupations, 
both  here  and  at  Sconset,  was  to  provide  herself 
with  shawls  and  a book,  — Chinese,  Sanscrit,  or 
Aramaic  answering  just  as  well  as  English,  — and 


6o 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


heaping  a pillow  of  the  sand  recline  luxuriously 
upon  it,  the  book  in  her  hand,  and  watch  the 
waves  roll  in,  comb  over,  break,  and  retreat,  the 
ten  thousandth  one  just  as  attractive  as  the  first. 
She  felt  it  then,  and  feels  it  now,  to  be  a frivolous 
way  of  spending  time,  in  fact  not  spending  it  at 
all,  but  just  giving  it  away;  and  yet  — and  yet 
— perhaps  on  the  whole  those  hours  were  as 
well  spent  as  those  of  the  ladies  who  with  veils 
over  their  complexions  seated  themselves  as 
soon  as  they  reached  the  sands  upon  their  camp- 
stools,  and  tatted  or  crocheted  or  ric-racked  the 
golden  hours  away,  looking  up  with  vague 
smiles  when  some  one  exclaimed,  “ Oh,  what 
a magnificent  breaker ! ” and  replying,  “ Ele- 
gant, isn’t  it?  Three,  four,  five,  six,  — Mary, 
this  does  n’t  look  right  to  me ; did  you  bring 
the  rule?”  No  doubt,  however,  the  sea-air  did 
them  good. 

Dionis  makes  her  leisurely  trips  back  and 
forth  during  every  hour,  except  of  course  those 
when  the  officials  are  getting  their  dinner  and 
tea,  — for  on  Nantucket  the  idea  of  one  man 
being  served  at  the  expense  of  another  man’s 
comfort  or  convenience  has  not  yet  super- 
seded that  notion  of  individual  dignity  and  the 


DIONIS. 


6l 


individual’s  right  to  himself  and  his  time  which 
is  the  quintessence  of  republicanism.  The  ir- 
ruption of  coofs  with  money  in  their  pockets 
will  no  doubt  soon  corrupt  this  primitive  nobility 
of  character;  but  the  present  generation  with 
their  traditions  must  pass  ay  completely,  be- 


fore a Nantucketer  will  stan  bap  in  hand  await- 
ing a patron’s  arrogant  leisure. 


SCRAP  V. 

THE  LISBON  BELL. 

O many  things  to  be  done  to-day ! ” 
cried  Blanche  next  morning,  run- 
ning down  the  stairs  and  jumping  off 
the  last  three,  rather  to  her  mamma’s  disap- 
proval. “ Bathing  and  sailing  and  fishing  and 
going  to  Wauwinet,  and  perhaps  to  Sconset; 
and  mamma  wants  to  poke  round  in  the  bric-a- 
brac  shops;  and  then  there  is  Mrs.  McCleve.” 

“ What ! Mrs.  McCleve  still  one  of  the  lions  ! ” 
exclaimed  the  senor.  “ Well,  well,  I’m  not  so 
old  as  I thought  I was.  I ’ll  go  and  see  Auntie 
McCleve  before  I sleep  again.” 

“ Afternoon  is  the  best  time  for  that,”  sug- 
gested mamma;  “just  after  dinner,  instead  of 
violent  exercise.  And,  girls,  you  had  better  se- 
cure your  bath  first  of  all,  and  don’t  disappoint 
your  papa  of  his  sail;  it  does  him  so  much 
good.” 

“ And  what  will  you  do  meanwhile,  my  dear?” 


THE  LISBON  BELL.  63 

asked  papa,  reciprocating  the  interest  and  the 
smile. 

“ Oh,  I will  look  up  Miss  Bettridge  and  her 
little  stock  of  curios.  She  has  always  some- 
thing odd  and  pretty  in  her  tiny  -shop.” 

“ And  I will  go  with  you,”  said  the  senora. 
“ I don’t  feel  like  doing  anything  more  active 
this  morning.” 

“ And  I,”  said  Mysie,  “ will  go  for  a walk,  and 
study  Nantucket  a little.  Which  way  shall  I 
go,  Blanche?  ” 

“Oh,  won’t  you  go  with  us?  I wish  you 
bathed.  Won’t  you  come  and  sail  afterward?” 

“ No,  my  dear ; I still  feel  excessively  terres- 
trial, and  had  rather  walk  than  do  anything  else.” 
“ Then  go  and  see  the  Portuguese  bell,  and 
the  wind-mill,  and  old  Captain  John  Gardner’s 
gravestone  out  by  the  water-works  ; and  there ’s 
lots  more  burying-grounds.” 

“ If  I might  offer  my  services  as  cicerone,” 
suggested  the  senor,  “ I should  enjoy  reviving 
my  own  old  memories  of  Nantucket;  and  I 
once  knew  a good  deal  about  it  in  one  way 
and  another.” 

“ Do  you  know  where  to  get  the  key  of  the 
belfry?”  shrewdly  inquired  Blanche. 


64 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  senor  laughed,  with  his  Spanish  shrug: 
“ Oh,  if  it  is  still  the  same  blessed  old  lock  I used 
to  pick  when  I was  a boy,  I ’ll  open  it  with  my 
pocket-knife,  or  almost  any  key  that  comes 
handy.  We  used  to  go  up  there  and  tie  cannon- 
crackers  to  the  tongue  of  the  bell,  show  lights 
out  of  the  windows,  daub  phosphorus  on  the 
walls,  — in  fact  what  did  n’t  we  do?  And  there 
are  so  many  dodge-holes  in  the  old  place  we 
always  managed  to  get  off  scot-free.” 

“ That  was  the  worst  of  it  — for  you,”  re- 
marked the  senora,  sententiously. 

“ But  there  is  a new  lock,”  announced  Blanche 
triumphantly.  “ Bill y Clark  told  us  about  it,  and 
how  the  boys  plagued  him  when  he  went  up  to 
look  out  for  the  steamer,  and  to  blow  his  horn 
north,  south,  east,  and  west  to  tell  when  she 
was  coming;  and  so  they  got  a real  splendid 
new  lock  and  put  on  just  to  please  him,  and  he 
keeps  the  key,  and  nobody  can  go  up  without 
his  leave.” 

“ Ah  ! ” exclaimed  the  senor  not  much  discon- 
certed. “ Well,  Billy  and  I are  old  friends,  and  I 
am  not  afraid  but  we  shall  find  entrance  when 
you  are  ready,  madame.” 

Billy  proved  amenable,  and  not  only  granted 


THE  LISBON  BELL. 


05 

the  boon  requested,  but  added  that  of  his  own 
society,  leading  the  way  up  many  steep  and 
breathless  stairs  with  a cat-like  activity  hard  to 
emulate.  The  first  flight  led  to  a dim  and  un- 
finished chamber,  where  the  two  night  watch- 
men alternate,  one  taking  repose  while  the  other 
in  the  belfry  above  gazes  down  upon  the  sleep- 
ing town,  watching  for  the  first  appearance  of 
fire,  — an  enemy  justly  dreaded  by  Nantucketers 
since  the  Great  Fire,  as  it  is  respectfully  styled, 
of  July,  1846.  There  had,  to  be  sure,  been  fires 
before  in  Nantucket,  — a pretty  big  one  in  1836 ; 
but  this  of  ten,  years  later  was  a disaster  from 
which  the  old  place  will  probably  never  recover, 
for  it  ate  out  the  heart  of  the  town,  destroying 
most  of  the  shops  on  Main  Street,  the  principal 
private  residences,  and  many  of  the  oil  factories 
and  warehouses.  Like  that  other  great  fire  in 
London,  — really  not  so  disastrous  judging  by 
consequences' as  this, — another  scourge  came 
hand  in  hand  with  the  conflagration;  and  the 
staggering  trade  and  commerce  of  Nantucket  re- 
ceived its  death-blow  in  the  destruction  of  the 
whaling  interest.  Aunt  Julia,  the  sweet  old  lady 
of  Mysie’s  temporary  home,  gave  her  a most  vivid 
and  touching  description  of  the  scene,  — telling 
5 


66 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


how  the  shopkeepers  brought  out  pieces  of  rich 
silk  and  satin  to  spread  over  their  roofs  and  shop- 
fronts, thinking  the  floating  flakes  would  not  kin- 
dle upon  them ; and  how  the  oil  merchants  rolled 
their  casks  of  oil  off  the  wharves  into  the  water ; 
and  how  the  housewives,  spreading  down  sheets 
upon  the  floor,  emptied  drawers  and  boxes  into 
them,  tied  them  in  great  budgets,  and  sent  them 
out  into  the  fields,  — saving  a good  deal  that  was 
worthless,  and  leaving  behind  stores  of  old  china 
brought  from  the  East  by  the  captains  of  those 
days,  plate,  furniture,  and  heirlooms  of  many 
sorts  never  to  be  replaced,  not  even  the  silks  in 
the  shops. 

One  phase  of  that  night’s  experience  must  be 
given  in  Aunt  Julia’s  own  words,  although  the 
infinite  pathos  of  the  dear  old  voice  and  dim, 
far-gazing  eyes  is  lost. 

“ Mother  would  n’t  leave  the  house  for  a long 
time ; she  said  the  fire  would  n’t  reach  us,  and  it 
was  n’t  until  the  roof  was  actually  blazing  that 
we  could  get  her  away.  Then  she  was  all  in  a 
hurry  to  go ; but  we  were  too  confused  to  take 
the  things  we  needed  most,  and  all  our  old  fam- 
ily silver  was  left  behind  except  the  little  in  the 
hand-basket  which  my  sister  caught  up  as  we 


THE  LISBON  BELL . 


67 


left  the  house.  I had  made  up  a parcel  of  cloth- 
ing and  bedding,  hoping  some  of  the  neighbors 
would  put  it  in  their  carts ; but  nobody  came, 
and  the  house  was  burning  over  our  heads,  and 
we  went  and  left  it.  It  was  so  noisy  and  rough 
in  the  streets  that  we  turned  off  toward  the  cliffs  ; 
and  when  we  were  well  out  of  town  we  all  three 
sat  down  close  together  and  looked  back  at  our 
home.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very  sky  and  ground 
and  even  the  water  were  on  fire,  and  I for  one 
could  n’t  feel  as  if  I ever  had  lived  in  such  a 
place,  or  ever  could  again.  Toward  morning  it 
turned  chilly,  and  mother  shivered  a good  deal ; 
but  we  had  nothing  to  put  over  her,  and  at  last 
my  sister  said,  ‘ Come,  there  ’s  no  use  in  staying 
here  any  longer : it  is  daylight  now,  let  us  go.’ 
Then  mother  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us 
and  said,  ‘ Girls,  where  have  we  to  go  to?  We 
have  no  place  belonging  to  us  anywhere ! ’ I 
had  n’t  really  taken  it  in  before,  and  I don’t  be- 
lieve my  sister  had  either;  and  we  just  clung 
together  and  cried  as  I never  have  cried  since. 
But  God  raised  us  up  friends,  and  it  was  wonder- 
ful to  see  how  everybody  felt  that  what  they  had 
saved  was  to  be  shared  with  those  who  had  noth- 
ing left.  Everybody  in  Nantucket  slept  under  a 


68 


NANTUCKET  SCTATS. 


roof  next  night,  though  there  were  a great  many 
more  heads  than  roofs.” 

Rather  a long  digression  this  time,  but  how 
could  you  understand  the  significance  of  that 
watchman’s  nest  in  the  Unitarian  steeple  if  you 
had  not  heard  of  the  Great  Fire ; and  the  only 
pity  is  that  one  must  not  pause  to  insert  the  vivid 
accounts  of  that  night  drawn  from  other  lips  as 
well.  But  the  senor  and  Billy  have  ascended  an- 
other flight  of  stairs,  and  are  found  gazing  with 
melancholy  interest  through  the  plate-glass  pan- 
els of  a locked  door,  behind  which,  on  a long 
low  table  (well,  it  did  remind  one  forcibly  of  a 
morgue),  was  displayed  the  interior  economy  of 
the  clock,  whose  four  faces  keep  Nantucket  an 
courant  of  Nantucket  time.  It  is  not  anybody 
else’s  time  to  be  sure,  not  even  the  sun’s;  and 
it  is  an  unfailing  subject  of  conversation  among 
the  off-islanders  to  compare  watches  and  dis- 
cuss differences  between  themselves,  and  be- 
tween everybody,  and  the  clock.  But  it  is  a 
very  fine  clock,  and  pursues  its  own  course  with 
a good-humored  unconcern  as  to  anybody  else’s 
course  eminently  Nantuckety.  Mournfully  and 
respectfully  turning  away  from  the  plate-glass 
window,  the  three  aeronauts  clambered  up  yet 


THE  LISBON  BELL . 


69 


another  stair  and  found  themselves  in  presence 
of  the  Bell. 

We  differ  so  widely,  we  human  atoms,  in  our 
sympathies  with  inanimate  objects  ! One  man  is 
profoundly  affected  at  sight  of  a steam-engine, 
another  at  a ship,  or  -a  cathedral,  or  a dinner; 
another  brightens  up  in  view  of  a library,  or  a 
museum,  or  a lot  of  dreadful  things  from  Cy- 
prus ; some  persons,  as  in  the  trio  under  discus- 
sion, gaze  with  wistful  interest  into  the  bowels 
of  a clock,  and  some  find  themselves  subtilely 
drawn  toward  bells.  And  this  last  is  not  a 
fancy  to  be  ashamed  of,  since  poets  have  made 
bells  the  theme  of  many  of  their  most  thrilling 
songs,  and  artists  have  expended  some  of  their 
subtilest  strokes  in  illustrating  them ; and  who 
among  us  ever  went  to  a school  exhibition,  or  a 
rural  lyceum,  that  we  did  not  hear  “ The  Song 
OF  THE  Bells  ” declaimed  with  varying  degrees 
of  excellence?  All  bells,  in  fact,  are  good  and 
interesting,  except  that  of  a knife-grinder,  and 
that  is  probably  only  the  perversion  of  good ; 
but  this  bell  in  the  south  steeple  of  Nantucket  is 
the  best  thing  on  the  island  — well,  among  in- 
animate objects ! It  was  cast  in  Lisbon  in  the 
year  1810,  and  was  one  of  a chime  of  six  in- 


70 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


tended  for  a convent,  its  peculiar  tone  the  B, 
although  some  critics  rank  it  as  A.  The  chime 
completed  was  tried,  as  carillons  always  are  be- 
fore being  consecrated ; and  Captain  Charles 
Clasby,  standing  by,  was  moved  with  the  de- 
sire to  snatch  this  special  pleiad  from  the  sweet 
galaxy  and  make  it  his  own.  Whether  Jose 
Domingues  da  Costa  happened  that  day  to  be 
“ making  up  a little  amount,”  and  needed  Clas- 
by’s  dollars  more  than  he  needed  the  B-bell 
of  his  chime,  we  know  not,  nor  does  history 
tell  how  many  of  said  dollars  went  to  the  bar- 
gain ; but  dollars  conquered,  and  the  bell,  in- 
scription and  all,  became  the  property  of  Cap- 
tain Clasby,  who,  being  himself  bound  to  the 
North  or  South  Pole  after  sperm  whale,  sent 
his  prize  home  by  Captain  Thomas  Cary,  of 
the  schooner  “ William  and  Mary.”  Wild  ru- 
mors of  romantic  incidents  connected  with  its 
arrival  on  the  island  assail  at  this  point  the 
seeker  after  truth,  — one  ancient  mariner  aver- 
ring that  it  was  wrecked  and  nearly  lost  on  South 
Shore ; another  that  it  was  smuggled  ashore  to 
avoid  duties,  and  hidden  in  the  cellar  of  Sam 
Cary’s  warehouse ; while  the  neutral-tinted  icon- 
oclast, who  revels  in  uprooting  legends,  declares 


THE  LISBON  BELL . 


71 


that  it  was  soberly  landed  at  a wharf,  and  stored 
in  a cellar  because  it  was  too  heavy  to  place  on 
the  floor  of  the  store-house.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
after  a while  bought  by  the  parish  of  tlfe  South 
Church  for  $500.00,  and  hung  in  its  present  po- 
sition in  1815.  It  was  rung  for  the  first  time  Dec. 
18,  1815,  in  honor  of  the  birth  of  the  infant  son 
of  some  island  magnate,  and  one  hardly  knows 
whether  to  smile  at  the  sarcasm  upon  itself  Nan- 
tucket thus  perpetrated,  or  to  sigh  compassion- 
ately over  the  record,  that  this  bell,  bearing  the 
inscription  it  does,  should  have  been  rung  De- 
cember 18  in  honor  of  the  birth  of  a baby,  and 
remain  silent  December  25,  when  all  Christen- 
dom was  rejoicing  over  the  birth  of  the  Babe 
of  Bethlehem.  Mysie  suggested  this  idea  to  one 
of  the  great  men  of  Nantucket,  and  received  the 
reply,  — 

“ Well,  I don’t  see  that  what  happened  in 
Judea  a couple  of  thousand  years  ago  has  much 
to  do  with  Nantucket.” 

And  on  reflection  Mysie  did  not  see  that  it  had. 
The  inscription  set  in  raised  letters  above  the 
quaintly  ornamented  rim  of  the  bell  runs  thus : 

“ Ao  bom  JEZUS  do  Monte  compl£tao  seus  vbtos 
os  devotos  de  Lisboa  offerecendo  Lhe  hum  completo 


72 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


jogo  de  seis  sinos  para  chamar  os  povos  que  adorao 
no  seu  sanctuario. 

“ Jose  Domingues  da  Costa  o fez  em  Lisboa,  no  anno 
de  1810.* 

Or  in  English : — 

“To  the  Good  Jesus  of  the  Mountain  the  devout 
of  Lisbon  direct  their  prayers,  offering  Him  a com- 
plete chime  of  six  bells,  to  call  the  people  to  adore 
Him  in  His  Sanctuary.  Jose  Domingues  da  Costa 
made  it  in  the  year  1810.” 

Mysie  mused  over  this  inscription  and  the 
memories  and  associations  it  evoked,  until  Billy, 
who  with  that  fine  courtesy  natural  to  the  un- 
corrupt American  man  in  presence  of  a woman, 
had  waited  in  patient  silence  through  what  must 
have  seemed  to  him  an  absurd  length  of  time, 
remarked,  — 

“She’s  a going  to  strike  twelve;  and  then 
they  ’ll  ring  the  noon  bell.  You  won’t  be  scared, 
will  you  ? ” 

More  afraid  of  being  deafened  than  scared, 
Mysie  hastily  withdrew  down  the  ladder,  and 
looking  up  from  a safe  distance  saw  as  well  as 
heard  the  ponderous  clapper  moved  by  the 
clock’s  works  rise  and  fall,  “with  twelve  great 
shocks  of  sound,”  and  then  the  whole  bell  re- 


THE  LISBON  BELL . 


73 


volve,  ringing  out  its  sweet-toned  call  to  weary 
artisans  and  “ stalled  ” school-children  and  idle 
coofs,  to  come  home  and  enjoy  the  noontide  meal. 

One  item  about  the  bell  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. A “ gentleman  from  Boston,”  charmed 
with  its  silvery  tone,  offered  in  the  name  of  the 
famous  Old  South  Church  of  that  city,  to  buy 
it  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar  per  pound,  the  weight 
being  1,575  lbs.  But  he  evidently  did  not  know 
his  Nantucket,  to  suppose  money  would  buy 
What  it  valued  as  a peculiar  possession ; and 
when  he  stated  that  they  had  a very  fine  clock 
in  the  belfry  of  the  Old  South,  but  had  unhappily 
cracked  their  bell,  and  would  like  to  know  at 
what  price  this  one  could  be  bought,  Nantucket 
replied,  that  she  had  a very  fine  bell  in  her  tower, 
but  her  clock  was  getting  old,  and  she  would 
like  to  know  at  what  price  the  Old  South  clock 
could  be  bought ! 

However,  after  solacing  her  dignity  with  this 
retort,  Nantucket  gave  the  gentleman  from 
Boston  the  address  of  Jose  Domingues  da  Costa, 
of  Lisbon,  and  the  Old  South  soon  had  a very 
fine  bell  of  her  own  ; while  in  course  of  time  one 
of  the  Starbucks,  resident  in  New  York,  presented 
his  native  town  with  a clock  costing  a thousand 


74 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


dollars,  the  same  lying  in  state  to-day  behind 
the  plate-glass  windows  of  the  morgue. 

Close  beside  the  bell  is  a ladder  leading  to  the 
cupola,  a small  chamber  surrounded  with  win- 
dows, from  which  may  be  had  a most  charming 
view  not  only  of  the  town  and  its  environs,  but 
of  nearly  the  whole  island,  with  its  setting  of  blue 
and  sparkling  ocean.  In  four  of  the  windows, 
those  facing  the  cardinal  points,  a round  hole  is 
neatly  cut  and  framed  about,  to  accommodate 
Billy  Clark's  spyglass,  as  he  watches  in  cold  or 
stormy  weather  for  the  shipping  news,  and  also 
the  angelic  trumpet  with  which  he  announces  his 
discoveries.  Billy  is  a very  respectable-looking 
person,  but  does  not  quite  meet  one's  idea  of 
Gabriel  even  as  popularly  represented ; and  yet 
as  the  trumpet  flashed  in  the  sunlight  from  the 
top  of  the  church-steeple  one  could  not  but  be 
reminded  of 

“ In  de  mornin’,  in  de  mornin’  ! 

When  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet  in  de  mornin’  i ” 


SCRAP  VI. 

MRS.  McCLEVE’S  MUSEUM,  THE  WINDMILL,  AND 
NEWTOWN  BURYING-GROUND. 

N accordance  with  the  sensible  sugges- 
tion of  the  mamma,  the  drowsy  hours 
of  early  afternoon  were  devoted  to  the 
museum,  collected  and  exhibited  by  the  public- 
spirited  widow  of  a sea-captain  named  McCleve. 
An  upper  room  of  her  comfortable  house  is 
devoted  to  the  curios,  although,  like  attar  of 
roses,  or  some  penetrating  oils,  they  seem  to 
have  saturated  the  entire  mansion, — the  good- 
natured  proprietress  occasionally  haling  a fa- 
vored guest  away  from  the  rest  to  look  at  some 
quaint  picture,  piece  of  china,  or  bit  of  furni- 
ture in  her  own  private  apartments.  The  party 
of  twelve  or  fourteen  collected  on  this  espe- 
cial afternoon  were  taken  to  the  upper  room 
and  seated  around  a small  table,  as  if  for  a 
spiritual  seance , the  hostess  arranging  prece- 
dence and  proximity  with  an  autocratic  good 


76 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


humor  to  which  everybody  yielded  except  the 
senor,  who,  standing  looking  in  at  the  door,  was 
presently  accosted  with  — 

“That  gentleman  at  the  door  — why  — I’ve 
seen  that  face  before ! Don't  you  tell  me  it ’s 
Sam!" 

“ No,  I won’t,  Aunty  McCleve,  for  you  ’d  be 
sure  to  contradict  me  if  I did,"  replied  the  senor, 
coolly;  whereupon  Aunty  shook  him  affection- 
ately by  the  hand,  assuring  him  he  was  the  same 
“ sarcy  boy"  he  used  to  be,  and  dragged  him 
most  reluctantly  to  a seat  in  the  magical  circle. 

“ At  what  period  of  the  entertainment  do  we 
pay?"  inquired  one  of  the  persons  one  meets 
everywhere,  and  who  may  be  called  the  whit- 
leather  of  society.  Mrs.  McCleve  looked  at  him 
with  an  appreciative  eye  for  a moment,  and  then 
quietly  replied, — 

“ Well,  it  is  n’t  often  people  bring  it  out  quite 
so  plain  as  that,  but  I guess  you ’d  better  pay 
now  before  you  forget  it."  Whit-leather  does 
not  suffer  from  sarcasm,  and  the  practical  man 
producing  a quarter  of  a dollar,  held  it  tight 
while  asking, — 

“ Have  you  got  ten  cents  change?" 

“No,  brother;  but  you  can  keep  your  quar- 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC . 


77 


ter  till  I have/*  replied  Aunty,  with  the  quiet 
gleam  still  in  her  eye,  and  the  business  was  soon 
adjusted.  This  over,  she  placed  upon  the  table 
a tray  containing  some  really  exquisite  carv- 
ings in  whale’s-tooth  ivory,  comprising  a set  of 
napkin  rings,  thread-winders,  spoons  of  various 
sizes,  knife-handles,  and  several  specimens  of 
a utensil  peculiar  to  Nantucket,  called  a jagging- 
knife,  used  for  carving  ornamental  patterns  in 
pastry, — a species  of  embroidery  for  which  Nan- 
tucket housewives  were  once  famous,  although, 
“ pity  ’tis  ’tis  true,”  they  have  now  largely  eman- 
cipated themselves  from  such  arts. 

As  the  guests  examined  these  really  wonder- 
ful products  of  talent  almost  unaided  by  imple- 
ments or  training,  one  of  the  ladies  naturally 
inquired,  “ Who  did  these?”  The  hostess  as- 
sumed a sibylline  attitude  and  tone : “ Perhaps, 
my  dear,  you  can  tell  us  that;  and  if  so,  you  ’ll 
be  the  first  one  I ever  met  that  could.”  This 
obscure  intimation  of  course  awakened  an  inter- 
est far  deeper  than  the  carvings,  in  every  mind; 
and  in  reply  to  a shower  of  questioning  the  sibyl 
gave  a long  and  intricate  narration,  beginning 
with  the  presence  on  board  of  her  husband’s 
whale-ship  of  a mystic  youth  with  the  manners 


78 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


and  bearing  of  Porphyrogenitus,  and  the  rating 
of  a common  sailor ; the  delicate  suggestion  of 
a disguised  lady  was  also  dimly  introduced. 
What  succeeds  is  yet  more  wonderful,  as  Sche- 
herezade  always  said  when  obliged  to  cut  short 
the  story  that  the  Sultan  might  get  up  and 
say  his  prayers;  but  we  will  not  invade  Mrs. 
McCleve’s  copyright  by  telling  it,  simply  advis- 
ing every  one  to  go  and  listen  to  it. 

“Two,  four,  six,  eight,  ten  — elev  — en!" 
counted  she  at  the  end,  picking  up  the  napkin 
rings;  “I  don't  seem  to  see  that  twelfth  ring!" 
and  she  looked  hard  at  the  unfortunate  who  had 
acquired  her  dislike  in  the  first  of  the  interview 
by  an  unfeeling  allusion  to  money. 

“ Here  it  is,  Aunty/'  remarked  the  senor.  “ I 
wanted  to  hear  you  ask  after  it." 

“ Now,  look  at  here,  Sammy,  you  're  too  old 
for  such  tricks,"  expostulated  the  dame,  in  pre- 
cisely the  tone  one  admonishes  a naughty  child ; 
and  then  turning  to  the  company  generally  she 
added  confidentially, — 

“ I aint  one  of  them  that 's  given  to  suspicion, 
and  it  aint  a Nantucket  failing;  but  last  summer 
there  was  a boy,  one  of  those  half-grown  critters, 
you  know,  neither  beef  nor  veal,  and  I just  saw 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC. 


79 


him  pocket  — well,  it  was  that  very  knife-handle. 
I always  kept  an  eye  on  it  since,  thinking  it 
might  be  off  yet.  So  I waited  till  I saw  he 
actooally  meant  it,  and  was  fixing  to  go  off  with 
it,  and  then  says  I,* — 

“‘Well,  sonny,  going  to  unload  before  you 
start  out  on  a new  v’yge?'  So  that's  all  about 
the  carvings;  and  these  are  sharks'  teeth,  — none 
of  your  Wauwinet  sand-sharks  that  would  run 
away  from  a puppy-dog  no  bigger  than  that,  but 
a reg’lar  man-eater  off  the  West  Indies;  and 
these  very  teeth  took  a man’s  leg  off.” 

“ Horrible ! ” cried  one,  while  another,  one  of 
the  persistent  souls  who  must  finish  A before 
they  begin  B,  inquired,  “ But  did  the  boy  give 
up  the  knife-handle?  ” 

“ Why,  of  course  he  did,  my  dear,  since  that 's 
it,”  replied  the  hostess  compassionately;  and 
then,  with  the  inborn  courtesy  peculiar  to  Nan- 
tucket folk,  turned  aside  the  laugh  that  followed 
by  hastily  displaying  some  new  marvel.  The 
room  was  crowded  with  marine  curiosities,  many 
of  them  brought  home  by  the  deceased  captain, 
many  of  them  presented  to  his  relict  by  his  com- 
rades or  her  own  friends ; they  were  mostly  such 
as  we  have  seen  many  times  in  many  places,  but 


8o 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


some  few  were  sui  generis , — such  as  a marriage 
contract  between  a Quaker  bachelor  and  maid  in 
the  early  days  of  the  island,  with  the  signatures 
of  half  the  settlers  appended  as  witnesses,  mutual 
consent  before  others  being  *the  only  ceremony 
required  by  the  canon  of  these  Nonsacramenta- 
rians.  Then  there  was  Phcebe-Ann’s  comb,  a 
wonderful  work  of  art  in  tortoise-shell;  anent 
which  the  possessor,  Phoebe-Ann’s  sister,  deliv- 
ered a short  original  poem,  setting  forth  how 
ardently  Phcebe-Ann  had  desired  one  of  these 
immense  combs,  their  price  being  eight  dollars 
each;  and  how,  having  engaged  it,  she  set  to 
work  to  earn  it  by  picking  berries  for  sale ; but 
before  the  pence  had  grown  to  the  pounds  the 
big  comb  was  out  of  fashion,  and  poor  Phoebe- 
Ann’s  hair,  which  had  been  wonderfully  luxuri- 
ant, fell  off  through  illness,  and  what  remained 
was  cut  short.  Nantucket  probity  would  not, 
however,  be  off  its  bargain  for  such  cause  as  this ; 
and  Phoebe-Ann  paid  her  money  and  took  her 
monumental  comb,  — more  useful  in  its  pres- 
ent connection,  perhaps,  than  it  could  have  been 
in  any  other.  The  crown  and  glory  of  Mrs.  Mc- 
Cleve’s  museum,  however,  is  a carved  wooden 
vase,  twelve  or  fourteen  inches  in  height,  made 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM , ETC. 


81 


from  the  top  of  one  of  the  red-cedar  posts 
planted  a century  or  two  since  by  this  lady’s 
ancestor,  to  inclose  a certain  parcel  of  land 
belonging  to  him.  Twenty  or  thirty  years  ago 
the  fence  was  to  be  renewed,  and  one  of  her 
cousins  proposed  to  her  to  drive  out  to  the  place 
and  secure  a relic  of  the  original  island  cedar 
now  extinct.  She  accepted  ; and  the  section  of 
post,  sawed  off  with  great  exertion  by  the  cousin, 
was  turned  and  carved  into  its  present  shape 
in  “ Cousin  Reuben  Macy’s  shop  on  Orange 
Street.” 

But  all  this  is  set  forth  in  an  original  poem 
delivered  with  much  unction  by  its  author,  who 
decisively  refuses  a copy  to  any  and  everybody, 
and  is  even  chary  of  letting  any  one  listen  to  it 
more  than  once.  It  is  original, — in  fact,  one 
may  say,  intensely  original,  — and  quite  as  well 
worth  listening  to  as  the  saga  of  a royal  skald. 
It  begins  after  this  fashion : — 

‘ ‘This  vase,  of  which  we  have  in  contemplation, 
Merits,  my  friends,  your  careful  observation. 

Saturday,  the  busiest  day  of  all, 

From  Cousin  Thomas  I received  a call.”  — 

Some  lost  couplets  record  the  invitation  to  drive, 
6 


8 2 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


and  the  demur  on  account  of  pies  then  baking 
in  the  oven ; but  this  being  overruled  by  mas- 
culine persuasiveness,  — 

“ Across  the  hall  I gayly  skipped, 

And  soon  was  for  the  cruise  equipped.” 

Then  follows  the  drive,  the  arrival,  and  the 
attempt  to  cut  the  stern  old  cedar  trunk  with  a 
dull  saw,  — 

“ Cousin  Thomas  worked  with  desperation, 

Until  he  was  in  a profuse  perspiration,” 

and  finally  secured  the  trophy  here  exhibited. 
But  these  stray  couplets  give  a very  inadequate 
idea  of  the  poem  as  delivered  by  its  author; 
and  he  who  visits  Nantucket  and  does  not  hear 
it  has  for  the  rest  of  his  life  a lost  opportunity 
to  lament. 

Just  at  the  close  of  the  recital  the  poetess  fixed 
her  eye  steadily  upon  a figure  drooping  beside 
one  of  the  windows,  and  sternly  inquired,  — 

“ Is  that  woman  sick?  Why  don’t  somebody 
see  to  her?  ” 

It  was  true  that  the  culprit,  overcome  by  the 
heat  of  the  room,  the  excitement  of  the  narra- 
tive, and  possibly  certain  ancient  and  fish-like 
odors  connected  with  marine  specimens,  had 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC. 


83 


fainted  a little;  but  was  speedily  recovered  by 
the  usual  remedies,  prominent  among  which  in 
these  days  is  a disinclination  to  have  one’s 
crimps  spoiled  by  the  application  of  water ; and 
the  incident  was  made  memorable  by  the  vale- 
dictory of  the  hostess : — 

“ Now  if  any  of  you  want  to  come  in  again 
while  you  stay  on  the  island  you  can,  without 
paying  anything;  and  if  I don’t  remember 
you,  just  say,  4 1 was  here  the  day  the  woman 
fainted,’  and  I shall  know  it ’s  all  right.’'  And 
we  heard  that  the  experiment  was  tried  and 
succeeded. 

As  the  party  left  the  house  the  senor  lingered 
to  say,  “We  are  going  up  to  the  old  wind- 
mill, Aunty.  Didn’t  it  belong  to  your  family 
once?  ” 

“I  should  say  it  did,  Sammy.  They  wanted 
a windmill  and  did  n’t  know  how  to  make  one ; 
and  they  got  an  off-islander,  name  of  Wilbur,  to 
make  it,  and  like  fools  gave  him  the  money  be- 
forehand. He  went  back  to  the  continent  for 
something,  — nails  maybe,  or  maybe  idees,  — 
and  carried  the  money  with  him ; some  pirate  or 
other  got  wind  of  it,  and  the  first  they  knew  down 
here,  the  man  was  robbed  and  murdered  there 


84 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


on  Cape  Cod.  That  did  n’t  put  up  a windmill 
though,  and  the  women  had  got  most  tired 
grinding  their  samp  and  meal  in  those  old  stone 
mortars,  or  even  a handmill;  so  some  of  the 
folks  spoke  to  my  grandfather  Elisha  Macy 
about  it,  and  he  thought  it  over,  and  finally  went 
to  bed  and  dreamed  just  how  to  build  it,  and 
next  day  got  up  and  built  it.  That ’s  the  story 
of  that,  my  dear.” 

“A  regular  case  of  revelation,  wasn’t  it?” 
suggested  the  senor  with  a twinkle  in  his  eye ; 
to  which  the  hostess  rather  sharply  replied,  — 

“ I don’t  profess  to  know  much  about  reveala- 
tion,  and  I don’t  surmise  you  know  much  more, 
Sammy;  but  that’s  how  the  windmill  was  built.” 

History  adds  another  anecdote  of  the  wind- 
mill, worthy  to  be  preserved  for  its  Nantuckety 
flavor.  Eighty-two  years  from  its  marvellous 
inception,  the  mill  had  grown  so  old  and  infirm 
that  its  owners  concluded  to  sell  it  for  lumber 
if  need  be.  A meeting  was  called,  and  Jared 
Gardner,  the  man  who  was  supposed  to  be  wisest 
in  mills  of  any  on  the  island,  was  invited  to  at- 
tend, and  succinctly  asked  by  Sylvanus  Macy,  — 

“ Jared,  what  will  thee  give  for  the  mill  with- 
out the  stones?  ” 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC. 


85 


“ Not  one  penny,  Sylvanus,”  replied  Jared  as 
succinctly;  and  the  other,  — 

“ What  will  thee  give  for  it  as  it  stands, 
Jared?  ” 

“ I don’t  feel  to  want  it  at  any  price,  friend,” 
replied  Jared  indifferently. 

The  mill-owners  consulted,  and  presently  re- 
turned to  the  charge  with,  — 

“ Jared,  thee  must  make  us  an  offer.” 

“Well,  then,  twenty  dollars  for  firewood,  Syl- 
vanus.” 

The  offer  was  accepted  immediately ; and 
shrewd  Jared  did  not  burn  his  mill  even  to  roast 
a sucking  pig,  but  repaired  and  used  it  to  his 
own  and  his  neighbors'  advantage,  until  the  day 
of  his  death. 

These  items  of  information  were  given  by  the 
senor,  as  he  and  Mysie  picked  their  way  up 
the  broken  hill  upon  whose  crest  the  windmill 
stands,  gray  and  venerable,  — that  is,  as  we  of 
the  New  World  count  venerable.  A crabbed  old 
Portuguese  named  Juan  Silva  is  miller  now,  and 
showed  but  scant  civility  to  his  guests,  until  he 
discovered  that  one  of  them  had  been  on  his 
native  island,  and  could  speak  some  phrases  of 
its  vernacular,  when  he  thawed  and  became  quite 


86 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


genial.  The  outlook  from  the  upper  windows, 
like  that  from  the  bell-tower,  shows  all  and  more 
than  all  of  the  island  framed  in  its  rim  of  shin- 
ing waters;  and  the  massive  oak-frame  of  the 
mill,  growth  of  the  primeval  forest  of  Nantucket, 
has  a certain  charm  of  antiquity  enhanced  by 
the  knowledge  that  no  more  oaks,  no  more 
cedars,  no  more  men  like  those  of  old,  will  grow 
upon  this  little  island  for  evermore. 

“ Do  you  see  that  graveyard  on  the  rising 
land  over  there  ?”  inquired  the  senor,  point- 
ing through  the  mill  window;  and  Mysie  re- 
plied, — 

“ How  charmingly  desolate  it  looks  ! Which 
is  it?” 

“The  Old  South,  or  the  Newtown,  as  you 
please.  There  is  one  stone  in  it  well  worth 
another  mile  if  you  feel  up  to  it.” 

“Allons!”  responded  Mysie;  and,  as  they 
went,  the  senor  related  many  an  island  tradition, 
or  told  the  exploits  of  his  own  boyhood,  with 
very  much  of  the  vague  regret  so  pathetically 
hanging  round  that  song  of  our  dear  dead 
singer,  — 

“ For  a boy’s  will  is  the  wind’s  will, 

And  the  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long  thoughts.” 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM , ETC. 


8 7 


A solitary  farm-house  stands  hard  by  the  stile 
over  which,  living,  one  surmounts  the  graveyard 
wall ; dead,  one  enters  by  the  gate.  In  the  door 
of  this  farm-house  stood  a comely  young  ma- 
tron, arms  a-kimbo,  who  called  to  the  pedestri- 
ans with  a friendly  nod,  — 

“ Wind  ’s  shifting  round  to  the  nor’ard,  and 
we’ll  have  a tempest  before  long;  better  not 
go  too  far  beyond  shelter.” 

“ Thank  you,  neighbor,”  replied  the  senor, 
heartily.  “ If  it  comes  on  to  storm  we’ll  make 
port  here.  Going  to  see  Huldah  Snow.” 

“ Yes? — well,  she  ’s  there,  I guess,”  replied  the 
other  a little  cynically,  for  Nantucket  does  not 
prize  its  own  treasures  as  strangers  do,  and  is  not 
much  given  to  meditations  in  graveyards,  or 
indeed  anywhere  else. 

So,  over  the  stile  and  down  knee-deep  into  the 
rank,  dry  grass  beyond,  and  presently  the  two 
stood  before  a melancholy  white  stone  all  awry, 
whose  record  Mysie  copied  verbatim,  as  thus : 

HULDAH,  WIFE  OF  BENJAMIN  SNOW. 

Died  Jan  29,  1855,  aged  62. 

However  dear  She  was  not  laid  here 
Some  private  grief  was  her  disease 
Laid  to  the  North  her  friends  to  please. 


88 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ And  now,  what  does  it  mean?”  inquired  she, 
as  she  finished  writing. 

“Well,”  said  the  senor,  with  a deprecatory 
shrug,  “ there  was  a little  unpleasantness  in  the 
family,  I believe ; and  Huldah’s  friends  were 
rather  bitter  against  Benjamin,  translating  the 
4 private  grief’  into  ‘ incompatibility  of  temper’ 
on  his  side.  At  any  rate,  they  insisted  that  her 
remains  should  lie  with  those  of  her  own  people 
in  the  North  Burying-ground,  as  they  actually 
do,  while  Benjamin’s  sorrow  found  expression  in 
this  stone  as  you  see, — thus  securing  the  last 
word,  contrary  to  the  usual  rule  in  quarrels  be- 
tween man  and  wife.” 

“ Charming ! Are  there  any  more  as  good 
here?”  asked  Mysie,  looking  wistfully  over  the 
briery,  wind-swept  hillside. 

“ Not  as  good,  perhaps ; but  see  here, — 

“ In  Memory  of  Sleeping  Dust 
and  this, — 

ALFRED  G. 

Died  at  Sea ; 

and  this  old  stone,  with  everything  scaled  off  its 
face  except  the  hour-glass  and  the  date,  1766. 
And  one  more  over  this  way  — yes,  here  it  is : 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC . 


89 


Erected  by  a number  of  young  men,  friends  of  the 
deceased,  to  the  memory  of 
SUSAN  P., 

daughter  of  Zimri  and  Sarah  Cleaveland,  who  was  drowned 
in  Madaket  Harbour 
July  24,  1849, 

24  years. 

A great  drop  of  rain  plashed  upon  the  note- 
book just  on  the  word  “ drowned it  may  have 
been  the  materialized  tear  of  one  of  those  young 
men  gone  to  rejoin  the  fair  girl,  whom  one  must 
fancy  lovely,  winning,  and  sweet  beyond  the 
common  measure,  to  have  drawn  forth  this  me- 
morial. But  the  rain-drop  was  a warning  as  well 
as  a tribute,  and,  not  to  share  the  watery  death 
of  poor  Susan,  the  explorers  hastened  through 
grass  and  briers,  weeds  and  thorns,  stumbling 
over  stumps  of  crumbled  away  gravestones,  and 
into  hollows  where  what  lay  beneath  had  mould- 
ered and  sunken,  until  the  stile  was  crossed,  and 
the  hospitable  farm-house  stood  close  at  hand. 
But  just  then  the  drops  ceased,  swallowed  in  a 
long,  cold  sigh  of  wind,  just  such  as  might  issue 
from  an  opened  tomb,  and  Mysie  proposed  hast- 
ening on,  and  only  seeking  shelter  when  driven 
to  do  so. 

“Very  well,”  said  the  senor,  “we  will  go  home 


90 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


through  Guinea,  and  I will  introduce  you  to 
some  of  my  particular  friends  there.” 

Half  a mile  or  so  was  soon  sped,  and  a low- 
hung  cloud  suddenly  burst,  dashing  its  bright 
drops  into  the  faces  of  the  voyagers  with  all  the 
malicious  fun  of  an  Undine. 

"Just  in  time!”  cried  the  senor.  "Here’s 
Pompey’s  house.” 

A neat  little  painted  cottage,  with  ground  well 
tilled  and  not  without  ornament,  lying  pleas- 
antly all  around,  and  a comely  young  woman, 
dark  of  skin  but  Caucasian  of  feature,  to  open 
the  door  and  smilingly  bid  the  wayfarers  enter. 
A pretty  sitting-room  opened  into  a great  cheer- 
ful kitchen,  neat  as  a bee-hive,  and  Pompey’s 
wife,  untying  her  checked  apron,  threw  it  upon  a 
chair ; but  presently,  at  the  frank  request  of  the 
senor,  resumed  both  it  and  the  pan  of  peas  she 
was  shelling,  while  replying  modestly,  yet  with 
a certain  free-born  self-respect,  to  the  questions 
of  her  visitor,  whose  name  she  knew  very  well,  al- 
though she  had  grown  up  since  he  left  the  island. 

" And  your  husband  is  Sampson  Pompey,  who 
used  to  go  out  fishing  and  shooting  with  me?” 
asked  the  senor.  " Many  an  hour  we  ’ve  lain  as 
close  as  any  two  of  those  peas  in  the  pod,  over 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC . 


91 


there  in  Pocomo  Harbor,  waiting  for  the  wild 
fowl” 

“ Yes,  there  used  to  be  a great  many  geese 
there,”  said  Mrs.  Pompey,  quite  innocently;  and 
the  senor,  with  a dry  little  smile,  replied  medita- 
tively, — 

“ Yes,  plenty  of  geese,  and  plenty  of  ducks, 
too,  when  I was  a lad  here ; but  all  gone  now,  I 
dare  say.” 

Then  he  began  asking  questions  out  of  a very 
retentive  memory,  about  the  relatives,  friends, 
and  acquaintances  of  this  young  woman;  and  it 
appeared  that  she  and  half-a-dozen  other  girls 
of  her  own  nationality  had  graduated  with  honor 
from  the  High  School,  — one  of  them  now  teach- 
ing an  advanced  public  school  in  New  Orleans ; 
another  bearing  away  from  several  active  white 
competitors  a diploma  answering  to  the  “ double- 
first  ” of  an  English  college,  and,  as  Mrs.  Pompey 
rather  despondently  said,  — 

“ Most  any  of  them  better  worth  while  than 
me.” 

“ How  many  children  did  you  say  you  had?  ” 
asked  the  senor. 

“ Two,  sir;  boys,  both  of ’em.” 

“ Then  the  great  Napoleon  would  have  ranked 


92 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


you  above  any  one  of  those  school-ma’ams  and 
bookkeepers.” 

“ Is  that  so?  ” asked  the  young  mother,  with  a 
smile  showing  the  most  perfect  of  teeth  and 
brightest  of  eyes. 

Undine  had  passed  by,  and  as  the  explorers 
fared  on  their  way  the  sehor  gave  many  interest- 
ing details  of  the  African  occupancy  of  Nan- 
tucket, — once  large,  now  dwindling  rapidly, 
partly  from  the  abolition  of  slavery,  partly  from 
the  dearth  of  occupation  for  any  sort  of  laborers. 
As  in  most  places,  the  negroes  of  Nantucket  are 
religious  in  their  own  fervid  fashion,  and  there 
have  been  several  Bethels  and  Zions  devoted  to 
their  worship ; but  these  have  shrunken  to  one, 
presided  over  by  a remarkable  man,  with  whom 
Mysie  had  subsequently  some  acquaintance. 
All  that  she  saw  and  all  that  she  heard  tended 
to  solidify  a conviction  long  forming  in  her  mind, 
that  the  African,  but  more  especially  the  man  of 
mixed  race,  can  be  cultivated  and  encouraged 
up  to  a certain  point  just  as  successfully  as  the 
Caucasian ; and  that  both  the  one  and  the  other 
are  apt  to  live  up  or  down  to  the  standard  set  for 
them  by  their  associates.  Intelligent  and  even 
benevolent  persons,  who  judge  the  negro  by  the 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC. 


93 


specimens  found  in  their  peculiar  haunts  in  large 
cities,  dispose  of  him  very  briefly,  as  “ dirty,  ly- 
ing, immoral,  lazy,”  etc. ; but  if  these  persons 
will  conscientiously  seek  out  an  equal  number  of 
Celtic  or  even  Anglo-Saxon  or  native  American 
specimens  of  the  same  social  grade,  the  same 
education,  occupations,  examples,  and  teaching, 
it  is  our  impression  that  they  will  find  the  above 
named  vices  as  fully  developed  as  in  the  African, 
with  the  addition  of  drunkenness  and  ruffianism, 
vices  not  constitutionally  African. 

On  the  other  hand,  take  negroes  and  place 
them,  as  on  Nantucket,  among  a simple,  truly 
charitable  people,  where  they  will  be  treated  and 
trained  precisely  as  if  they  wore  white  skins,  or 
rather  without  any  reference  to  their  skins,  and 
they  will  at  any  rate  in  the  second  and  third 
generations  be  in  every  respect  equal  to  their 
white  associates. 

Whether  more  expanded  modes  of  treatment 
and  a longer  time  might  develop  higher  ca- 
pacities, and  whether  the  soft  and  plastic  ma 
terial  could  ever  receive  the  polish  of  marble, 
are  questions  impossible  to  answer  without 
experimental  knowledge. 

This  theory  was  confirmed  by  a flying  call, 


94 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


made  during  the  next  shower,  upon  one  of  Mrs. 
Pompey’s  neighbors,  pure  Anglo-Saxon  of  blood, 
but  neither  so  intelligent,  educated,  nor  courteous 
as  that  young  woman,  while  the  house  was  quite 
lacking  in  the  air  of  cheerful  well-being  char- 
acteristic of  Pompey’s  cottage. 

The  showers  now  settled  into  a steady  down- 
pour and  the  senor  exclaimed,  — 

“ Stress  of  weather  excuses  all  informality ; so 
we  will  make  port  here,  and  I will  give  you  a 
glimpse  of  a first-class  Nantucket  home.” 

Mysie  opened  her  mouth  to  object,  but  the 
rain  closed  it  again  before  she  could  speak,  and 
the  senor  leading  the  way  through  a pretty  little 
flower-garden,  opened  a door  and  walked  in, 
calling  aloud,  — 

“ Harbor-master  ahoy ! Small  fleet  put  in  in 
distress ! ” 

The  hail  was  responded  to  by  a voice  at  once 
maritime  and  cordial,  and  the  Captain  advanced 
with  extended  hand  from  the  open  door  of  the 
charming  parlor,  where  presently  his  wife  wel- 
comed her  informal  visitors  with  gracious  ease, 
entertained  them  as  long  as  they  would  stay, 
and  finally  equipped  them  with  wraps,  shoes, 
and  umbrellas  as  many  as  they  would  accept. 


MRS.  McCLEVE'S  MUSEUM,  ETC. 


95 


“ Yes,”  said  the  senor,  with  a sigh,  as  they 
plashed  along  toward  home,  “ that ’s  the  way 
everybody  lived  in  Nantucket  when  the  Captain 
and  I were  boys.  Every  door  stood  open,  or  at 
most  latched,  with  the  string  hanging  out ; and 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  felt  a friendly  inter- 
est in  every  other,  and  nobody  was  homeless  or 
friendless,  whatever  happened  to  his  own  house 
or  his  own  family.  The  Great  Fire  showed  that. 
But  they  tell  me  things  are  changing  fast.” 

“ The  Summer  Boarder,  with  his  wants  and 
his  money,  has  ruined  other  places  than  Nan- 
tucket,” replied  Mysie,  ruefully.  “ I went  to 
Mount  Desert  in  1864,  and  they  timidly  charged 
us  three  dollars  per  week  for  board ; and  we 
could  sit  for  hours  on  Great  Head,  or  by  the 
Spouting  Horn,  without  seeing  a human  face,  or, 
which  is  perhaps  worse,  an  egg-shell,  a piece  of 
buttery  paper,  or  an  empty  claret  bottle.”* 

“You  never  will  see  it  so  again,  I’m  afraid,” 
said  the  senor,  blithely. 

“No,  nor  you  Nantucket,  as  it  was  when  you 
were  a boy,”  retorted  Mysie. 


SCRAP  VII. 

FRIENDS. 

S has  been  previously  remarked,  it  is  not 
everybody  who  likes  Nantucket;  not 
everybody  who  discovers  its  features  of 
interest,  or  finds  them  interesting  when  pointed 
out.  To  really  enjoy  them  when  found,  a cer- 
tain amount  of  physical  strength  is  requisite,  and 
so  is  a pair  of  thick  shoes,  also  a short  dress,  and 
a hat  capable  of  being  tied  securely  down  ; for  the 
best  of  Nantucket  is  to  be  found  by  walking,  some- 
times actively, — as  in  the  case  of  John  Gardner’s 
grave,  or  the  cliff,  or  the  burying-grounds,  or  the 
farm,  now  owned  by  a Mr.  Smith,  where  Benjamin 
Franklin’s  mother  lived  as  child  and  girl,  and  from 
whose  spring  she  drew  water,  all  unconscious 
of  her  posthumous  fame.  And  sometimes  the 
walk  is  of  a prowling  nature,  through  by-streets 
and  lanes,  where  one  pauses  to  talk  a little  over 
garden  fences  to  rather  reticent  old  folk,  who 
will  occasionally  invite  a “ stranger”  into  their 


FRIENDS. 


97 


houses  still,  and  may  perhaps  after  a while  be 
coaxed  into  some  slow,  quaint  old  story  with  a 
Rip  Van  Winkle  flavor  to  it. 

Occasionally  Mysie  ventured  to  knock  at  an 
open  door,  or  even  at  a closed  one,  and  asking 
leave  to  sit  and  rest  for  a little,  would  slide  into 
a gentle  gossip  with  the  inmates,  usually  finding 
any  reserve  or  suspicion  fade  away  as  her  gen- 
uine respect  and  sympathy  for  Nantucket  folk 
became  apparent.  In  only  one  instance  was  she 
treated  with  rudeness  and  inhospitality,  and  as 
that  has  been  forgiven  it  shall  be  forgotten. 

The  professional  bric-a-brac  shops  are  not 
interesting,  except  to  the  freshest  of  novices  in 
such  merchandise ; but  occasionally  one  finds  in 
houses,  where  to  speak  of  purchase  were  an  insult, 
a set  or  a piece  of  rare  old  India  china,  or  carved 
furniture,  or  sometimes  pictures.  Two  of  these, 
seen  by  Mysie,  were  rich  and  dark  old  paintings, 
— one,  evidently  German,  representing  a hand- 
some youth  in  an  ermine  mantle,  probably  the 
portrait  of  some  petty  prince ; the  other  a power- 
ful representation  of  Christ  at  the  Pillar  of  Fla- 
gellation, so  realistic  that  one  longs  to  rescue  it 
from  its  present  position  and  place  it  in  a church 
or  convent.  This  picture  has  its  history,  al- 
7 


98 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


though  its  artist  remains  unknown,  for  it  was 
rescued  by  a Nantucket  sailor  from  the  burning 
picture-gallery  of  an  Italian  seaport,  becoming, 
in  his  mind,  a piece  of  lawful  salvage.  He 
brought  it  home  and  presented  it  to  a comrade, 
who  subsequently  sold  it  for  two  or  three 
dollars ; and  it  finally  became  the  property  of 
the  worthy  man  at  present  owning  and  dis- 
playing it  in  his  barber’s  shop.  Prowling  thus 
about  the  place,  Mysie  noticed  her  own  sur- 
name upon  the  sign  of  a tin-shop,  and  went  in ; 
a dignified  and  venerable  man  came  from  the 
workshop  at  the  rear,  and  meeting  the  stranger’s 
eyes  with  a smile,  but  no  form  of  salutation, 
inquired, — 

“ Does  thee  wish  for  some  tinware?” 

A small  cup  to  carry  upon  excursions  was  the 
purchase  first  suggesting  itself,  and  while  nego- 
tiations of  a very  deliberate  nature  went  on, 
Mysie  mentioned  the  identity  of  name.  The  old 
man  looked  pleased  and  interested. 

“ Did  thy  people  come  from  Nantucket?” 
inquired  he.  “ Mine  have  lived  here  more  than 
a century.  We  have  a chart  at  home  showing 
our  history  and  connections ; perhaps  thee  would 
like  to  look  at  it,  if  thee  cares  for  such  vanities.” 


FRIENDS . 


99 


“I  do  very  much;  but  I did  not  suppose 
Friends  did,”  suggested  Mysie. 

The  kindly  dark  eyes  of  the  old  man  gleamed 
over  the  top  of  his  silver-bowed  spectacles  with 
a shrewd  smile. 

“ Is  thee  much  acquainted  among  Friends?” 
asked  he. 

“ Not  at  all,  I am  sorry  to  say.  ” 

“ When  thee  is,  I think  thee  will  find  them 
much  like  other  people,  so  far  as  human  nature 
goes.” 

The  acquaintance  thus  begun  did  not  here 
finish ; and  in  course  of  time  Mysie  was  privi- 
leged to  visit  the  pleasant  home  and  the  sweet 
saintly  wife  of  this  honored  Friend, — a friend, 
but  no  relative,  for  the  chart  clearly  tracing  his 
genealogy  did  not  include  hers.  Also  she  re- 
ceived the  freedom  of  the  workshop  ; and  when 
no  other  visitor  was  there  would  most  contentedly 
occupy  the  leathern  arm-chair  beside  the  open 
window,  and  watch  the  cutting  and  fashioning 
or  repairing  of  vessels  of  tin  and  sheet-iron, 
while  the  patriarch  and  she  exchanged  views 
upon  religious  or  social  topics,  agreeing  better 
upon  the  latter  than  the  former,  where  indeed 
they  were  as  widely  apart  as  two  persons  with 


IOO 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


the  same  ultimate  end  in  view  could  well  be. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  an  individual  dressed 
as  a gentleman,  evidently  a stranger,  came  into 
the  outer  shop  and  loudly  demanded  a basin 
fit  to  bail  out  a boat  with.  The  proprietor 
showed  him  two, — one  with  a handle,  costing 
thirty  cents ; and  one  with  no  handle,  priced  at 
twenty-five  cents. 

“ Oh,  hang  the  one  without  a handle,,,  re- 
marked the  customer,  contemptuously  pushing 
it  aside. 

“ Thee  can  hang  it  if  thee  chooses ; it  has  a 
ring  for  that  purpose,”  replied  the  Friend,  dryly. 

The  customer  laughed  boisterously,  and  seiz- 
ing the  other  basin,  said,  — 

“ Come,  I ’ll  give  you  a quarter  for  this,  and 
call  it  even.” 

“ I think  not,  friend  ; the  price  of  that  is  thirty 
cents,”  calmly  replied  the  other,  laying  a firm 
hand  upon  it. 

“But  I haven’t  any  money  except  a quarter; 
all  I Ve  got  in  the  world,”  persisted  the  other. 

“Really!  Is  thee  so  poor  as  that?  Then  I 
advise  thee  to  take  the  cheaper  dish,”  coolly 
retorted  the  Friend,  casting  a quick  glance  over 
the  other’s  handsome  yachting-suit. 


FRIENDS. 


IOI 


“No  getting  round  you,  is  there ?”  laughed 
the  stranger,  producing  a handful  of  loose  sil- 
ver from  his  pocket  and  selecting  thirty  cents. 
The  nobler  man  eyed  the  money  and  then  its 
possessor. 

“ I thought  thee  said  thee  had  only  a quarter 
of  a dollar  in  the  world,”  said  he,  gravely.  The 
man  laughed  a little  awkwardly,  but  replied  with 
an  attempt  at  careless  jocularity,  — 

“Oh,  I was  only  fooling,  you  know;  just 
talk ! ” 

The  steadfast  gaze  of  those  dark  eyes  through 
the  silver-rimmed  glasses  must  have  been  very 
hard  to  bear,  for  the  sun-burned  face  of  the 
recipient  colored  of  a yet  deeper  red,  and  he 
was  turning  hastily  away,  but  the  Friend  laying 
a detaining  hand  upon  *his  shoulder,  said  very 
earnestly,  — 

“ I think  thee  meant  to  convey  a false  impres- 
sion, and  that  is  worse  than  foolish,  friend.  I 
advise  thee  for  thine  own  good  to  be  more  care- 
ful in  future.” 

“ All  right,  old  man.  If  I said  anything  out 
of  the  way  I take  it  all  back,”  replied  the  yachts- 
man, throwing  down  the  money  and  snatching 
up  the  dish ; and  in  spite  of  the  debonair  style 


102 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


of  his  departure  one  fancies  he  carried  more 
than  a tin  basin  out  of  that  presence.  Returning 
to  the  workshop,  its  master  cast  a smiling  glance 
at  Mysie,  asking,  — 

“ Did  thee  hear  all  that?  ” 

“ Yes.  But  he  was  n’t  a Nantucket  man.” 

“ No,  he  was  n’t  a Nantucket  man,”  said  Friend 
James,  meditatively.  “ But  though  we  raise 
some  honesty  and  truthfulness  on  Nantucket, 
we  don’t  want  to  set  up  a monopoly  of  any  of 
God’s  gifts.” 

Relating  this  anecdote  to  a friend,  of  Nan- 
tucket origin,  he  capped  it  with  another:  — 

“ When  I was  a boy,  one  of  my  ambitions  was 
to  play  upon  the  fiddle ; and  I once  went  into 
Friend  James’s  shop  to  procure  a piece  of  rosin 
for  the  bow.  He  said  he  had  some,  and  mounted 
a stool  to  find  it  upon  an  upper  shelf.  A small 
bit  presented  itself,  and  holding  it  down  toward 
me  he  inquired, — 

“ ‘ Is  this  large  enough  for  thee,  my  son?  9 
“ ‘ Oh,  yes,’  replied  I,  incautiously;  ‘I  only 
want  to  rosin  my  fiddle-bow.’ 

“ ‘ Thy  fiddle-bow  ! ’ repeated  he,  with  a look 
I distinctly  recall  at  this  moment;  and  then  as 
he  replaced  the  bit  of  rosin  in  its  corner  and 


FRIENDS . 


103 


stepped  down  from  the  stool,  dusting  his  hands, 
he  quietly  added, — 

“ ‘ I have  no  rosin  to  spare  this  morning;  but 
I believe  Friend  Obed  Hussey  keeps  it.’ 

“ Hating  the  sin  but  loving  the  sinner,  you 
see!  I went  to  Friend  Obed  Hussey’s  and  got 
my  rosin;  but  you  may  be  sure  I did  not  men- 
tion its  purpose.” 

Such  and  such  like  were  Nantucket  men 
of  the  last  generation ; but  -a  change  not  alto- 
gether owing  to  the  invasion  of  coofs  has  passed 
upon  the  place.  The  belief,  phraseology,  dress, 
and  character  of  the  Friends,  once  the  rule  of 
Nantucket,  are  fast  becoming  the  exception;  the 
young  men  and  maidens,  though  born  to  yea  and 
nay , and  to  dove-color  and  chastened  demeanor, 
quietly  assume  the  world’s  garb,  manners,  and 
morals  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough  to  choose. 
The  two  meeting-houses,  once  filled  to  overflow- 
ing on  every  First-day  and  Fifth-day,  are  now 
only  occupied  by  a few  shadowy  figures,  who 
sit,  the  men  with  hat  on  head  at  one  side,  the 
women  at  the  other,  while  a few  of  both  sexes 
occupy  the  high  seats  facing  the  rest,  in  silence, 
except  as  the  Spirit  moves  one  or  another  to 
some  quiet  utterance  of  devotion, — not  much 


104 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


differing,  after  all,  from  those  of  other  good  peo- 
ple, except  when  sacraments,  ceremonies,  or 
“ paid  priests  ” come  in  question.  Mysie,  seeing 
the  door  open  of  a Fifth-day,  would  sometimes 
slip  in  and  sit  in  the  cool,  shadowy  place,  calmed 
by  the  brooding  silence  and  the  spirit  of  rest, — 
not  cheerful  exactly,  but  yet  content,  the  motion- 
less gray  figures,  with  white,  set  faces  and  folded 
hands,  seeming  more  like  a company  of  dis- 
embodied spirits,  learning  that  “ beyond  these 
voices  there  is  peace,”  than  living  men  and 
women.  Once  a preacher  was  there,  one  sup- 
posed to  be  always  charged  with  divine  grace, 
and  ready  to  utter  it,  as  he  did  on  this  occasion ; 
but  Mysie  for  one  found  the  silence  more  helpful. 
She  subsequently  asked  Friend  James  how  this 
and  other  preachers  went  from  place  to  place, 
since  salary  or  stipend  of  any  kind  for  such  ser- 
vices is  abhorrent  to  Friendly  tenets,  and,  as  she 
suggested,  it  is  not  expected  that  in  these  days 
men  will,  like  him  of  Tarsus,  labor  with  their  own 
hands  for  their  own  support,  and  spend  the  pro- 
ceeds in  ministering  to  the  souls  of  others. 

“No,”  replied  Friend  James,  cautiously;  “a 
man  may  hardly  do  that  in  this  country.  It  is 
likely  both  food  and  raiment  were  cheaper  in 
Judea  than  here.  Well,  if  a Friend  has  a con- 


FRIENDS. 


105 


cern  of  mind  to  go  to  a certain  place,  and  is 
likely  to  do  good  there,  he  makes  it  known,  and 
he  is  generally  helped  on  his  way  by  those  who 
have  what  he  has  not.” 

“ And  they  give  him  something  to  keep  his 
family  while  he  is  gone,  don’t  they?” 

“ Yes,  that  is  sometimes  needful,  also.” 

“Well,  that  is  about  all  that  most  clergymen 
out  of  the  cities  receive,  except  that  their  sala- 
ries are  regular  sums  paid  at  regular  times,”  sug- 
gested Mysie,  and  the  talk  drifted  into  its  usual 
channel.  We  all  know  how  difficult  and  how 
exasperating  is  the  effort  to  make  others  even 
perceive,  much  more  share,  the  enjoyments 
which  delight  us ; and  it  is  very  possible  that 
few  of  Mysie’s  usual  associates  would  have  cared 
to  sit  in  that  shadowy  back  room  on  a bright 
summer  morning,  watching  the  mending  of 
saucepans  or  manufacture  of  porringers,  con- 
versing the  while  in  a tentative  and  desultory 
fashion  with  the  mender  and  maker,  who,  truth 
to  tell,  gave  more  attention  to  his  work  than  to 
her ; but  she  counts  those  hours  among  the  most 
interesting  of  Nantucket  memorabilia,  and  never 
once  in  that  back  shop  encountered  the  dreary, 
deadly  weight  of  boredom  so  apt  to  sit  enthroned 
in  the  correctest  drawing-rooms. 


io6 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ Apres  nous  la  deluge ” is  undoubtedly  a sel- 
fish and  cynical  utterance,  and  yet  one  may 
perhaps  be  pardoned  some  self-gratulation  in 
having  fallen  upon  even  the  latter  days  and  last 
men  of  the  epoch  of  individualism  so  rapidly 
passing  away.  This  is  the  age  of  machinery; 
and  not  our  clothes  and  furniture  only,  but  our 
manners,  speech,  modes  of  thought,  and  occupa- 
tions are  moulded  more  or  less  after  one  model, 
turned  out  by  the  thousand  instead  of  by  the  unit, 
and  yet  only  one  unit  repeated  a thousand  times 
in  the  whole  invoice.  Seven  hundred  years  ago, 
Bernard  de  Morlaix,  sang  “ The  time  is  waxing 
late;”  but  the  salt  had  not  lost  its  savor  in  his 
day  as  in  ours,  and  the  weariness  of  which  Sol- 
omon as  well  as  the  great  Cluniac  complained 
had  not  reached  the  dead  level  of  to-day,  or  the 
deader  level  toward  which  it  is  sinking.  Cour- 
age, mon  iconoclaste ! The  universal  language, 
universal  costume,  universal  government  and 
currency  are  hastening  toward  us,  or  we  toward 
them ; and  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  a 
man  shall  gape  in  Ispahan  or  Siberia  precisely 
as  he  does  in  Boston  or  Natchez,  and  find  pre- 
cisely the  same  cause  to  do  so,  and  the  same 
solace  for  doing  so. 


SCRAP  VIII. 

“ LILIAN  ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS. 

HERE  are  you  going  to  take  us  to-day, 
young  woman  ? ” inquired  the  pater 
familias  one  morning,  seizing  Blanche 
by  the  magnificent  Marguerite  braid  hanging 
down  her  back. 

“ I am  so  glad  you  thought  to  inquire  before 
we  started,”  replied  she,  with  the  demure  drollery 
which  was  one  of  her  pretty  ways.  “You  are 
going  to  Wauwinet  on  the  yacht  'Lilian’  at 
nine  o’clock.  You  will,  won’t  you?  Say  yes! 
ah,  please ! ” suddenly  changing  from  a little 
queen  to  a coaxing  child. 

“ Why,  of  course ; how  could  I say  anything 
else,  having  received  my  orders?”  responded 
papa,  in  mock  humility ; and  presently  a very 
merry  party,  including  the  sisters,  with  faithful 
Harry  in  attendance,  the  senor,  senora,  the  nino 
and  nina,  with  Mysie,  went  trooping  down  to  the 
steamboat  wharf,  beside  which  lay  a trim  white 
yacht  with  “ Lilian  ” painted  at  the  stern,  and  a 


108  NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 

huge  L evolving  itself  from  the  folds  of  the 
mainsail  creeping  up  the  mast  under  the  united 
efforts  of  the  captain  and  crew. 

“ Going  to  Wauwinet?  Just  on  time/' cried 
the  captain  cheerily ; and  as  the  crew  also  looked 
round  with  a cheerful  smile,  and  moved  his  pea- 
jacket  so  that  the  ladies  might  conveniently 
step  down  upon  the  thwart,  the  passengers  felt 
that  the  freedom  of  the  boat  was  extended  to 
them,  and  clambered  or  bounded  as  the  case 
might  be  from  the  wharf  to  the  thwart,  select- 
ing their  seats  as  they  were  more  or  less  boat- 
wise.  One  other  individual  appeared  just  as 
the  “ Lilian  ” was  leaving  the  wharf,  — a gentle- 
man  wearing  a very  new  silk  hat,  a very  cut- 
away plaid  coat,  a diamond  ring,  and  mourning 
finger-nails,  a breast-pin,  and  a loud  laugh.  He 
was  very  sociable,  and  presently  informed  the 
company  that  he  was  .a  grocer’s  drummer,  and 
had  sold  one  forgets  how  many  barrels  of  sugar 
and  boxes  of  nutmegs  upon  Nantucket  already. 
Having  laid  this  solid  foundation  of  respectabil- 
ity, he  proceeded  to  domestic  details,  and  gave 
some  very  improving  sketches  of  his  dealings 
with  his  mother-in-law,  whom  he  seemed  to  have 
under  excellent  discipline,  although  one  could 


LILIAN”  AND  SEVEN  SHARKS.  109 


not  but  suspect  that  the  mother-in-law’s  daugh- 
ter had  proved  a handful,  and  that  the  drummer 
was  not  averse  to  an  occasional  leave  of  absence 
from  home.  One  circumstance  supporting  this 
theory  was  the  insane  eagerness  this  person  dis- 
played to  kill  something,  anything  in  fact.  If  a 
gull  flew  within  range  he  loudly  bewailed  him- 
self that  he  had  not  a gun,  although  one  must 
doubt  the  danger  to  the  gull,  had  the  best  of 
weapons  been  at  hand ; a little  beetle  ran  across 
the  deck,  and  our  friend’s  splay  foot  hastened  to 
crush  it,  but  fortunately  a friendly  crack  offered 
timely  refuge.  At  last,  however,  as  the  “ Lilian  ” 
flew  before  a westerly  wind,  the  joyous  waves 
lapping  her  sides  and  sending  little  jets  of  spray 
over  the  forward  deck,  a demon  whispered  “ blue- 
fish  ” to  the  man  of  nutmegs,  who  at  once  de- 
manded of  the  crew  tackle,  an  old  hat  and  an 
oilcloth  coat;  the  good-natured  crew  at  once 
produced  all  these  requisites,  and  ten  minutes 
later,  with  much  outcry,  and  self-gratulation, 
and  stamping  about  the  deck,  our  friend  began 
hauling  upon  his  line,  evidently  meeting  with 
considerable  resistance. 

“ When  he  shall  try  to  pull  thee  out, 

God  give  thee  strength,  O gentle  trout, 

To  pull  the  rascal  in ! ” 


no 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


murmured  Mysie ; but  the  charitable  wish  was 
not  fulfilled,  and  the  beautiful  creature  presently 
lay  dying  at  her  feet,  and,  all  his  beauty  lost  in 
torment  and  death,  was  thrust  into  a bucket  and 
out  of  sight  No  doubt  the  necessity  exists  that 
man’s  life  should  be  sustained  by  violently  rob- 
bing the  lower  animals  of  theirs ; but  why  this 
hideous  necessity  should  be  ranked  as  a pleas- 
ure, a social  amusement,  and  a recreation,  it 
is  hard  to  understand.  Or  if  the  rule  holds 
good  in  one  instance,  why  not  in  all?  If  it  is 
delightful  for  a party  of  men  and  women  count- 
ing themselves  refined,  tender-hearted,  gentle, 
and  merciful,  to  make  a party  to  go  and  kill 
fish,  birds,  or  deer,  why  not  go  to  see  oxen  and 
pigs  and  sheep  slain,  or  slay  them  with  their 
own  hands?  Or  why  not  revive  Tyburn  and 
the  Place  de  la  Greve,  and  make  parties  to  the 
hanging  or  burning  of  our  criminals?  The  fish, 
the  bird,  the  deer,  die  to  support  men’s  lives; 
the  murderer  is  executed  to  protect  them : cruel 
necessities  both,  and  both  involving  depriving 
the  victim  of  the  life  which  God  gave  and  we 
can  by  no  possibility  replace.  So  be  it,  if  it  is 
right  in  the  one  case  and  in  the  other ; but  as  it 
is  not  the  custom  of  civilization  to  dance  around 


LILIAN ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS. 


Ill 


its  culprits,  hacking  them  to  pieces  by  inches 
and  gloating  over  their  agonies,  why  turn  the 
slaying  of  our  food  into  a similar  amusement? 

From  which  digression  the  practical  mind  will 
deduce  two  facts : there  is  excellent  fishing  of 
several  varieties  in  Nantucket  waters ; and  My- 
sie  declines  all  invitations  to  go  fishing. 

A legend  of  the  island  relates  that  a dying 
Indian  seer,  lamenting  over  the  decay  of  his 
race,  prophesied,  that,  as  a sort  of  compensatory 
justice,  they  should,  in  disappearing,  carry  the 
blue-fish  with  them,  perhaps  to  stock  the  waters 
of  the  Happy  Hunting-Ground.  Somewhat 
remarkably,  the  bluefish  verified  this  prophecy ; 
and  when  Abram  Quary,  the  last  man  with 
Indian  blood  in  his  veins,  died,  in  1855,  not  a 
bluefish  was  to  be  caught  within l ten  miles  of 
Nantucket.  The  curse  was,  however,  of  limited 
charter;  and  after  twenty  years  or  so  the  blue- 
fish returned  in  great  numbers,  and  are  one  of 
the  principal  dishes  of  the  Nantucket  tea-table 
to-day. 

A little  hour  brought  the  “ Lilian”  to  Wauwi- 
net,  represented  to  the  ignorant  eyes  of  a “ stran- 
ger ” by  a long  wooden  pier,  and  a gravelly  bank 
gradually  rising  to  a slight  altitude  whereon  is 


1 12 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


built  a unique  house  of  entertainment,  consisting 
of  a small  dwelling  with  a large  pavilion  an- 
nexed. This  pavilion  is  open  on  three  sides  in 
fine  weather,  but  is  provided  with  a series  of 
shutters  swung  at  the  top  to  staples  driven  into 
the  cornice ; in  winter,  or  in  stormy  weather,  or  at 
night,  these  are  lowered  and  made  fast  upon  the 
inside,  but  at  other  times  are  swung  up  to  the 
ceiling,  where  they  lie  flat,  and  offer  a novel  sort 
of  decorative  effect.  The  idea  is  not  peculiar  to 
Wauwinet,  but  was  prevalent  throughout  Nan- 
tucket in  primitive  times,  when  the  population 
was  denser  and  the  manners  franker  than  now. 
In  one  house,  in  especial,  we  noticed  in  the  beam 
traversing  the  ceiling  of  the  long,  low  sitting- 
room  a number  of  hooks,  and  were  informed  by 
the  interesting  old  lady  whose  life  has  serenely 
passed  within  those  walls,  that,  in  the  former  days, 
a partition  of  thin  boards  in  sections,  or  a leathern 
curtain,  was  hung  across  the  room  at  night,  con- 
verting half  into  a sleeping  room.  The  pavilion 
at  Wauwinet  is  furnished  with  tables,  chairs, 
castors,  and  bills  of  fare  suggestive  of  clams, 
lobsters,  fish,  and  at  dinner-time  lamb,  which 
animal  should,  we  think,  be  ranked  among  the 
amphibia,  from  its  universality  at  the  sea-shore. 


“ LILIAN ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS.  1 13 

Nobody  however,  requiring  refreshment  except 
the  drummer,  who  was  last  seen  consuming  lager 
beer,  oysters,  and  a cigar,  the  party  went  through 
the  pavilion,  and  taking  a winding  path  across  the 
beach  grass,  crossed  the  narrow  neck  of  land,  or 
rather  sand,  dividing  the  harbor  of  Nantucket 
from  the  open  sea.  This  harbor,  six  or  seven 
miles  in  length,  is  in  itself  a magnificent  sailing 
ground,  giving  opportunity  in  rough  weather  for 
sea-sickness,  shipwreck,  fishing,  even  for  whales 
and  sharks  in  one  or  two  instances,  and  all  the 
other  amenities  of  marine  amusement;  but  when 
one  crosses  the  “ Haul-over,”  as  this  neck  is 
called,  for  the  simple  reason  that  boatmen  wish- 
ing to  pass  from  the  harbor  to  the  open  sea  haul 
their  boats  over  the  few  rods  of  sand  intervening 
at  this  point,  one  finds  Old  Ocean  in  his  sterner 
and  grander  moods  awaiting  one  with  tumult 
of  surf,  and  strong,  salt  wind,  and  the  blank, 
limitless  expanse  of  water  and  sky  peculiar  to 
the  eastern  and  southern  shores  of  this  perilous 
land.  Far  to  the  right  rises  Sankaty  Head, 
eighty-five  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  its 
summit  crowned  by  a light-house,  and  the  little 
hamlet  of  Quidnet  and  Sachacha  Pond  at  its 
feet.  Two  or  three  little  boats  were  dodging 


1 1 4 NANTUCKE  T SCRAPS. 

their  way  in,  now  trusting  themselves  to  the  crest 
of  a roller,  now  backing  and  holding  off  for 
another  friendly  lift.  Finding  the  right  moment, 
they  at  last  came  sliding  up  the  beach,  the  fish- 
ermen tumbling  over  the  sides,  and  hauling  their 
little  craft  high  and  dry  with  the  celerity  and  con- 
fidence of  long  practice.  Two  or  three  male 
passengers  appeared,  and  all  with  much  excite- 
ment and  noise  proceeded  to  land  the  horrible 
freight  of  sharks  they  had  brought  back,  this 
species  of  game  being  very  abundant  in  this 
precise  locality.  Seven  of  the  ugly  creatures 
were  dragged  out  upon  the  beach  and  laid  side 
by  side,  like  the  dead  sailors  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner’s  vision ; then  the  proprietors  casting 
invitatory  glances  at  the  “ Lilian’s  ” party,  they 
proceeded  to  inspect  the  prize,  the  men  poking 
them  with  their  feet,  prying  open  their  mouths, 
and  disputing  over  their  weight  and  size  as  men 
always  do  on  such  occasions,  and  the  women  ut- 
tering various  dainty  exclamations  of  horror  and 
astonishment,  ending  generally  with  a desire 
more  or  less  pronounced  to  possess  some  of 
the  teeth,  which  are  often  mounted  in  gold  and 
worn  as  ornaments.  We  all  know  how  fashion, 
like  history,  repeats  herself,  and  undoubtedly 


“LILIAN”  AND  SEVEN  SHARKS.  1 15 

the  brown  beauties  of  Nantucket  two  or  three 
hundred  years  ago  also  begged  sharks’  teeth  for 
ornaments,  only,  with  the  noble  simplicity  of  the 
savage,  they  thrust  them  through  the  flesh  direct, 
without  the  intervention  of  a gold  wire.  On  the 
inner  curve  of  the  Haul-over  are  bathing-houses, 
and  the  water  is  said  to  be  warm  and  clean ; but 
none  of  the  Lilians  made  proof  of  it  on  this 
occasion,  preferring  to  saunter  or  sit  upon  the 
fine  dry  sand  and  look  at  the  sea  and  sky,  tell 
each  other  long  dreamy  stories  and  theories,  or 
simply  gaze  at  the  long  rollers  sliding  up  the 
sand  and  breaking  at  their  feet,  “ soft  as  carded 
wool,”  laughing  and  clapping  their  hands  in 
playful  mischief  if  a daring  foot  or  the  hem  of  a 
garment  were  overtaken  by  their  swift  pursuit, 
— and  yet  with  an  arriere-pensee  in  all  their  mirth 
reminding  one  of  crushing  blows,  and  blinding 
spray,  and  shrieking  wind,  and  drowning  men. 

“ Rule  the  sea,”  indeed!  Oh,  no,  Britannia; 
neither  you  nor  the  Bird  of  Freedom,  nor  any 
power  of  man,  does  more  than  toy  with  the  mon- 
ster’s mane  when  he  is  in  good  humor.  Let  him 
growl,  or  shake  his  head,  or  show  his  teeth,  and 
lion  and  eagle  alike  must  fly  or  be  devoured. 
Perhaps  one  reason  we  love  the  sea  so  much  is 


1 1 6 NANTUCKE  T SCRAPS. 

the  instinct  of  hero-worship,  — the  attraction  to 
something  stronger  than  ourselves,  • — so  deeply 
implanted  in  human  nature. 

The  sound  of  an  impertinent  little  steam-whis- 
tle drifting  across  the  hummocks  of  the  Haul- 
over  announced  the  departure  of  the  tiny  steam- 
boat also  plying  between  town  and  Wauwinet, 
and  the  Lilians,  slowly  gathering  themselves  and 
impedimenta  from  the  sands,  returned  to  the 
wharf  in  time  to  see  the  tug  get  herself  away  with 
much  shrieking,  ringing,  and  whistling ; while  the 
“ Lilian,”  white,  serene,  and  graceful,  laid  her 
pretty  head  to  the  open  sea  and  floated  tran- 
quilly out  upon  its  breast,  — the  two  reminding 
one  of  a fussy  old  dowager  and  a charming 
young  girl  entering  an  august  assembly.  The 
only  blot  upon  the  gay  homeward  voyage  was, 
that  the  man  of  spices  and  bluefish  had  decided 
to  take  the  steamer  back  to  town.  This  grief 
was,  however,  partially  assuaged  by  Captain 
Smalley,  who,  leaving  the  helm  in  charge  of  the 
crew,  entertained  his  passengers  with  sea-stories 
and  Nantucket  reminiscences  full  of  the  briny 
flavor  and  sparkling  sunlight  with  which  the  hour 
and  the  scene  brimmed  over. 

Approaching  the  town  from  the  water,  one 


“ LILIAN ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS . H7 

cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with  its  apparent  size 
and  importance.  A stranger  knowing  nothing 
of  the  place  would  take  it  for  a city  of  consid- 
erable extent,  instead  of  a town  never  reaching 
a census  of  ten  thousand  souls  in  its  palmiest 
days,  and  now  numbering  only  about  three  thou- 
sand. One  reason  of  this  deceptiveness  is  that 
every  public  building  is  so  placed  as  to  make  a 
feature  in  the  picture.  The  square  crenellated 
belfry  of  the  North  Meeting-house  shows  in  its 
gray  paint  as  the  granite  tower  of  a cathedral ; 
the  gilded  dome  of  the  Unitarian  steeple  glitters 
in  the  sunshine  as  if  a veritable  Ophir  lay  be- 
neath; the  High-School  house,  appropriately 
set  upon  the  highest  hillock  in  town,  shows  up 
like  a city  hall  of  whitest  marble;  the  many 
wharves  step  bravely  out  into  the  harbor  in  a 
grim  dance  of  death,  while  the  great  closed  ware- 
houses at  their  heads,  once  filled  with  oil  and 
candles,  or  provisions  for  the  whaling  vessels 
erewhile  crowding  these  empty  docks,  look  like 
the  closed  mausoleums  of  dead  and  buried  pros- 
perity. Nor  must  one  forget  the  most  impres- 
sive dwelling-house  in  town,  — a large  and  pala- 
tial residence  standing  in  its  own  grounds,  and 
flashing  back  the  sunlight  from  unnumbered 


1 18 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


windows ; for  this  is  the  Poor-house,  where  be- 
nevolent housewives  send  dainties  to  feed  the 
occasional  pauper,  young  ladies  go  to  read  to 
him  if  he  falls  ill,  and  the  grave  and  kindly  tax- 
payers are  always  ready  to  hold  meetings  for 
the  amelioration  of  his  exceptionally  happy  lot. 
Here,  only  a few  months  since,  lived  and  died  a 
delightful  old  sailor  named  Robert  Ratliff,  who 
made  the  voyage  to  St.  Helena  with  the  captive 
emperor  of  the  French,  and  spoke  of  him  with 
more  generosity  and  fairness  than  England’s 
great  poet  exhibited  in  his  taunting  lines : — 

u But  yesterday  a king, 

And  set  with  kings  to  strive  ; 

And  now  thou  art  a nameless  thing, 

So  abject,  yet  alive.” 

At  the  other  wing  of  the  town  lies  the  Cliff,  a 
sand-bank  some  forty  feet  in  height;  and  upon 
its  crest  stand  a number  of  summer  cottages 
whither  the  Nantucket  gentry  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  retreating  during  the  summer  months, 
following  the  great  law  of  change  laid  down  by  a 
small  boy  of  our  acquaintance,  who,  looking  dis- 
contentedly out  of  the  window  on  a rainy  day, 
remarked,  — 

“ Mamma,  I wish  we ’d  move.” 


LILIAN ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS. 


1 19 


“ Move,  child  ! what  for?  Where  do  you  want 
to  move  to?”  inquired  mamma. 

“ Oh,  I don’t  care ; but  I wish  we ’d  move 
some  place,  if  it  was  only  next  house.” 

But  in  the  new  order  of  things  dawning  upon 
the  shores  of  Nantucket,  the  Cliff  has  been  seized 
upon  by  “ strangers,”  who  are  putting  up  the 
regulation  seaside  villa  in  great  numbers ; and, 
out  of  compliment  to  the  aesthetic  taste  of  the 
day,  painting  it  deep-red,  sunflower-yellow,  post- 
man’s-blue,  or  the  deepest  and  muddiest  choco- 
late to  be  bought  for  money.  The  most  imposing 
of  these  novelties  is  a really  stately  house  built 
by  a celebrated  New  York  lawyer.  One  droll 
revenge  of  Nature  upon  these  invaders  of  her 
especial  domain  is  the  shutting  off  the  view  of 
herself  they  have  been  at  such  pains  to  secure, 
by  turning  their  fine  plate-glass  windows  into 
ground-glass,  — an  operation  performed  with 
great  celerity  by  the  combined  action  of  fine 
sand,  high  winds,  and  constant  moisture  of  spray 
and  fog.  The  wise  man  does  not  dispute  with 
Nature,  but  utilizes  her;  and  what  a situation 
this  cliff  would  be  for  a blind  asylum,  a nunnery, 
or  a young  ladies’  seminary ! We  present  the 
suggestion  gratuitously  to  the  world.  Another 


120 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


little  eccentricity  of  the  breezes  sweeping  these 
cliff  estates  is  the  blowing  away  of  the  gardens 
attempted  by  the  proprietors ; the  only  way  to 
keep  a cuticle  of  soil  upon  the  sand  composing 
this  eminence  is  to  plant  it  with  beach-grass ; 
and  however  appropriate  to  the  environs  of  a 
villa,  beds  of  gladioli,  pelargonium,  and  begonias 
may  be,  they  do  not  answer  the  purpose,  or  in 
any  sense  hold  their  own  before  the  piping  winds 
which  tear  the  poor  things  up  by  the  roots,  bury 
them  in  sand,  and  shriek  exultingly  upon  their 
way.  Beyond  the  Cliff  and  the  villas  stands  a 
peculiar  structure,  — more  like  an  immense 
washing-tub  upon  a trestle  than  anything  else, 

— furnishing  at  once  a subject  of  conversation 
to  the  approaching  stranger  and  a handsome 
finish  to  the  view  of  Nantucket  at  this  western 
end  of  the  amphitheatre.  This  is  the  Reservoir, 

— for  Nantucket  has  its  aqueduct  as  well  as 
Rome,  New  York,  London,  and  some  other 
places,  and  like  them  embellishes  the  water- 
works in  its  own  way ; this  reservoir  for  instance 
being  painted  of  a very  charming  shade  of  red 
and  placed  close  by  Captain  John  Gardner’s 
grave,  makes  a harmonious  link  between  past 
and  present,  and  a good  terminus  to  a drive  or 


“ LILIAN”  A'fyl}  SE  VEN  SHARKS.  1 2 I 

walk.  Keeping  all  these  points  in  view,  and  add- 
ing a liberal  allowance  of  sky,  water,  sand,  and 
retreating  moors  as  background,  one  under- 
stands that  Nantucket  makes  upon  the  mind  of 
its  approaching  visitor  the  impression  of  a large 
place,  — maritime,  but  also  civic  in  its  impor- 
tance,— a juvenile  Amsterdam  or  Venice  per- 
haps ; and  one  of  the  most  frequent  remarks 
heard  upon  the  deck  of  the  incoming  steamboat 
is,  “ Why,  I did  n’t  know  it  was  so  much  of  a 
place.”  A few  days  of  rambling  about  the  town, 
however,  places  things  upon  a more  comfortable 
and  home-like  footing;  and  the  traveller  having 
by  cautious  inquiries  satisfied  himself  that  there 
are  no  cathedrals,  maisons  d'or , town  halls,  pic- 
ture galleries,  or  places  where  Washington  or 
Franklin  once  sat  down  and  wiped  their  brows, 

- — nothing  in  short  that  he  is  in  any  way  bound 
to  know,  or  argue  himself  unknown,  — begins  to 
enjoy  pottering  about  the  quiet  old  streets,  the 
deserted  wharves,  and  quaint  burying-grounds, 
doing  nothing,  seeing  nothing,  and  lacking  noth- 
ing, in  a manner  impossible  to  the  show-places 
of  earth.  Hector  St.  John  and  Mysie  perfectly 
agree  in  their  appreciation  of  this  hidden  charm, 
although,  as  he  pithily  remarks,  — 


122 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ Such  an  island,  inhabited  as  I have  described,  is 
not  the  place  where  gay  travellers  should  resort  in  order 
to  enjoy  that  variety  of  pleasures  the  more  splendid 
towns  of  this  continent  afford.” 

One  of  Mysie’s  favorite  haunts  was  the  shore- 
district  lying  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  town,  a 
network  of  blind  lanes,  narrow  crooked  streets, 
old  buildings  and  unexpected  situations,  — such 
as  going  in  at  one  end  of  a lane  apparently  level 
and  having  to  climb  a steep  flight  of  steps  to 
reach  the  house  and  garden  plots  abutting  upon 
it,  and  then  to  descend  not  only  these  but  a 
second  series  of  steps  and  a precipitous  cobbled 
gutter  to  arrive  at  the  other  end.  A bluff  called 
Quanaty  Hill,  symmetrically  balancing  the  Cliff 
at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  once  stood  here, 
but  a hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  was  dug  away 
to  make  room  at  the  water-side  for  the  then  grow- 
ing maritime  quarter.  There  seems,  however, 
to  have  been  no  particular  limit  to  the  levelling 
process,  and  in  some  places  the  streets  with  their 
buildings,  and  especially  the  summer-houses  or 
lookout  places  in  which  sea-faring  people  natur- 
ally delight,  suddenly  appear  above  the  heads  of 
passengers  in  the  level  ways  below,  giving  one 
the  bewildering  sensation  of  being  in  a two- 


LILIAN " AND  SEVEN  SHARKS . 123 


story  town,  — common  enough  abroad,  but 
not  so  frequent  in  our  own  practical  land. 
The  nomenclature  of  these  streets  is  peculiar, 
being  sometimes  descriptive,  — as  New  Dollar 
Lane,  Step  Lane,  Candle  Street,  Stone  Alley, 
and  Try  Works  Lane;  complimentary,  as  Pleas- 
ant and  Fair  Streets;  named  after  the  old  fam- 
ilies, — as  Gardner  Street,  Hammatt’s  Corner, 
etc. ; or  adopted  from  the  names  of  favorite 
vessels,  — as  Vestal  Street,  Brothers  Lane,  and 
Wasp  Alley.  Some  of  these  more  peculiar 
titles  have  suffered  change,  — as  when  the  senor 
took  Mysie  to  see  Teaser  Lane,  and  found  a 
gilt  sign-board  proclaiming  the  thoroughfare 
to  be  Lyon  Street. 

“Too  bad,  too  bad  ! ” muttered  the  senor,  really 
annoyed ; “ and  the  old  Teaser  Meeting-house 
gone  too ! That ’s  where  it  stood. ” And  he 
pointed  to  a dismal  cellar-hole  full  of  thistles 
and  old  tin-kettles,  a sight  but  too  common  in 
Nantucket,  where  the  houses  are  almost  as  peri- 
patetic as  in  Cheyenne,  the  alternative  name 
of  which  place  need  not  be  more  particularly 
mentioned  here. 

“And  why  Teaser  Meeting-house?  ” asked 
Mysie,  respectfully  contemplating  the  cellar- 


124 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


hole.  “ And  why  are  you  distressed  at  its  dis- 
appearance? ” 

“ Oh,  it  was  one  of  the  old  landmarks ; and  as 
for  the  name,  — ‘all  of  which  I knew  and  part  of 
which  I was,’ — it  came  about  in  this  way.  The 
Methodists  had  built  a new  meeting-house,  and 
wanted  to  dedicate  it;  but  their  ideas  of  how 
such  matters  should  be  conducted  being  a little 
mixed,  they  proceeded  about  as  they  would  to 
launch  and  christen  a new  whaler,  and  it  was 
considered  appropriate  in  either  case  to  hoist 
the  national  flag.  I don’t  remember  whether 
they  fired  a gun  and  broke  a bottle  of  spirit  or 
not;  but  when  it  came  to  the  flag  question,  it 
was  discovered  that  my  uncle  was  the  only  man 
in  town  possessing  a United  States  ensign,  and 
I,  standing  by  to  listen  to  the  discussion,  was 
despatched  to  borrow  it  for  the  occasion.  Now 
my  uncle  was  not  a Methodist,  and  he  was  a 
wag;  so  when  I made  known  the  petition  he 
replied,  — 

“‘Oh,  I’ll  lend  them  a flag,  of  course;  but 
one  is  as  good  as  another:  take  this.’ 

“ Now  ‘ this  ’ was  the  ensign  of  the  brig 
‘ Teaser,’  and  had  that  name  upon  it  in  letters 
a foot  long  or  so, — bright  yellow  letters  on  a 


LILIAN ” AND  SEVEN  SHARKS.  1 25 


red  ground ; real  Spanish  colors,  by  the  way. 
Well,  I took  the  flag,  rolled  up  as  it  was,  and 
brought  it  up  here,  obeying  my  uncle’s  direc-* 
tions  in  not  letting  it  out  of  my  hands,  until  at 
the  proper  moment  it  was  hauled  to  the  peak, 
and,  as  the  newspapers  say,  ‘ flung  to  the  breeze.’ 
You  can  imagine  the  sensation  ! The  Methodists 
had  partly  a mind  to  be  mad  about  it;  but,  after 
all,  what  harm  was  done?  So  they  laughed  in- 
stead ; and  all  the  town  laughed  with  them,  and 
at  them.  They  left  the  flag  up  until  sunset. 
And  from  that  day  this  was  regularly  called 
the  Teaser  Meeting-house,  and  this  lane  was 
Teaser  Lane;  and  I don’t  believe  in  changing 
things.” 

At  this  juncture  a door  quietly  opened  close 
behind  the  speakers,  and  a woman  clothed  upon 
with  a sun-bonnet  effectually  hiding  her  face,  as 
a plaid  shawl  shrouded  her  figure,  came  out 
into  the  little  garden  between  the  house  and  the 
street.  In  her  hand  she  carried  a tin  can  of 
water,  which  she  proceeded  to  pour  around 
two  or  three  melancholy  little  plants  feebly 
struggling  against  sand  and  wind.  In  spite  of 
this  occupation  it  was,  however,  supposable  that 
she  had  come  to  assist  at  the  conversation  and 


126 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


the  inspection  of  the  cellar-hole ; and  the  senor 
suavely  greeting  her,  inquired,  — 

“ What  is  the  name  of  this  street,  madam?  ” 

“ Lyon  Street.  You  might  read  it  at  the 
corner,”  replied  the  dame,  never  raising  her 
face,  which  throughout  the  interview  remained 
as  hidden  as  that  of  the  Dweller  upon  the 
Threshold. 

“ Lyon  Street?  ” repeated  the  senor.  “ Did  it 
ever  have  any  other  name?  ” 

“Not  as  I know  of,”  replied  the  Dweller, 
curtly. 

“Wasn’t  there  a place  named  Teaser  Lane 
round  here,  somewhere?  It  seems  to  me  I 
remember  it  when  I was  a boy.” 

“ Humph  ! If  you  was  a boy  here,  you  know 
well  enough  that  this  was  Teaser  Lane,  and  over 
there  was  the  Teaser  Meeting-house,  moved 
away  this  ten  year.  I guess  you  know  as  much 
about  it  as  I do,  and  don’t  need  to  ask  no 
questions.” 

With  this  valedictory,  she  passed  within  the 
threshold  and  disappeared. 

“Now  I wonder,”  said  the  senor  pensively,  as 
he  turned  away,  “ if  she  is  the  survivor  of  those 
Methodists,  and  remembers  me?” 


“ LILIAN”  AND  SEVEN  SHARKS.  1 27 
“The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them,” 

quoted  Mysie,  with  due  solemnity : and  so  in  the 
westering  light  they  fared  homeward  through 
steep,  quaint  Orange  Street. 


SCRAP  IX. 


A SQUANTUM. 

HAT  is  a ‘ squantum  ’?  ” inquired  My- 
sie,  hurling  the  question  into  the  midst 
of  the  group  chatting  in  the  twilight 
upon  the  steps  and  in  the  doorway  of  their 
pleasant  caravansary. 

Such  a pause  ensued  as  when  Discordia, 
appearing  at  the  marriage  feast  of  Peleus,  flung 
her  apple  upon  the  board;  only,  following  the 
course  of  the  ages,  the  call  now  was  for  the  wisest 
instead  of  the  fairest. 

“ A ‘ squantum  ’ ! ” repeated  Rose  and  Blanche, 
softly ; “ why,  what  is  a ‘ squantum,’  to  be  sure  ? ” 
“ The  etymology  of  the  word  suggests  the 
noble  savage,”  quoth  Harry,  solemnly. 

“ I don’t  know  what  it  means,”  said  the  big- 
gest and  bravest  man  in  presence. 

u Come,  senor;  of  course  you  know!”  said 
Mysie.  “ What  is  a ‘ squantum  ’ ? ” 

“ A ‘ squantum  ’ used,  in  the  Golden  Age,” 


A SQUANTUM. 


129 


replied  the  senor,  retrospectively,  “ to  mean  a 
party  of  merry  lads  and  lasses,  Cap’n  Burgess’s 
boat,  a bushel  of  clams,  several  chickens,  a lot 
of  roasting-ears  of  Indian  corn,  potatoes,  hard 
tack,  cold  coffee,  luncheon  baskets  crammed 
with  goodies,  ten  hours’  sail  more  or  less,  and  a 
great  deal  of  laughter,  not  to  say  flirtation.” 
“That  sounds  very  nice,”  exclaimed  Rose, 
Blanche,  and  Harry  in  a breath.  “ Let ’s  have 
one ! ” 

“ That  was  in  the  Golden  Age,”  repeated  My- 
sie.  “Well,  now  that  we  have  arrived  at  the  — 
let  us  say,  type-metal  age  — ” 

“ Typical  is  better,”  interpolated  the  pater 
familias . 

“ Now  that  most  of  this  fair  company  have 
arrived  at  the  typical  age,”  amended  Mysie, 
“ what  will  a ‘ squantum  ’ mean  for  us?  I ask, 
because  we  are  to  be  invited  to  one  to-morrow.” 
A second  silence  fell  upon  the  company,  most 
of  whom  were  probably  considering  of  what  their 
own  age  was  typical.  The  senor  was  the  first  to 
recover  himself. 

“ Oh,  for  us,”  said  he  cheerily,  “ it  ought  to 
mean  considerable  comfort  in  the  arrangements  ; 
a very  cautious  partaking  of  the  clams,  with  a 
9 


130 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


glass  of  wine  afterward ; a good  deal  of  very 
improving  conversation,  not  quite  so  much 
laughter  as  of  old,  an  early  bed,  and  consider- 
able rest  next  day.” 

“ And  that ’s  what  typical  means,”  sighed 
Mysie.  “ Well,  as  I said,  I have  private  and 
reliable  information  that  we  are  to  be  invited 
to  a 4 squantum  ’ to-morrow  at  Surf  Side  on 
the  South  Shore,  and  that  we  are  to  meet  the 
very  elite  of  the  island,  — an  honor  I espe- 
cially desire,  and  which  is  not  easily  attainable 
for  strangers  in  these  days.” 

“ There,  again  ! ” said  the  senor.  “ We  did  n’t 
use  in  the  Golden  Age  to  have  any  elite,  or  to 
think  anything  about  whom  we  were  to  meet, 
except,  of  course,  4 the  fair,  the  inexpressive 
she  ’ of  the  moment.” 

“ It  is  quite  as  well  to  lay  aside  childish  things 
sometime  or  other,”  remarked  the  senora. 

“ But,  my  dear,  I went  to  a good  many  ‘ squan- 
tums’  with  you  in  those  days,”  replied  her  hus- 
band. 

Industrious  inquiries  in  other  directions 
evolved  the  further  information  that  “ squan- 
tum ” means  a clam-bake,  with  the  addition  of  a 
picnic  of  less  substantial  dainties  ; that  the  name 


A S QUANTUM. 


131 

was  borrowed  from  either  a special  point  of  the 
Coatue  beach  frequented  for  this  purpose  by 
century-dead  Nantucketers,  or  from  an  old  In- 
dian living  in  that  vicinity  and  famous  for  his 
skill  in  the  preparation  of  the  clams  and  their 
adjuncts.  Everybody  knows  the  modus  operandi 
of  a clam-bake,  but  it  shall  be  here  set  down 
according  to  the  old  squantum  method. 

A hole  large  enough  to  contain  a cask  is  dug 
in  the  sand  upon  the  beach,  and  paved  with 
cobble-stones ; upon  them  is  built  a substantial 
fire  of  drift-wood,  — this  sort  of  fuel  imparting 
a picturesque  flavor  to  the  viands;  when  the 
stones  are  red-hot  all  through,  and  the  fire 
burned  out,  a quantity  of  wet  seaweed  is  thrown 
in,  and  upon  it  is  emptied  a bushel  or  more  of 
clams  dug  within  the  hour;  upon  these  are  laid 
several  chickens  cut  open  as  if  to  broil,  some 
potatoes  pared  and  cut  in  halves,  and  some  ears 
of  green  corn  in  the  husk ; upon  these  again  is 
laid  more  seaweed,  and  the  top  is  finished  off 
with  an  old  sail  or  some  boards,  — anything  to 
keep  in  the  steam  plentifully  arising.  An  hour 
or  so  is  ample  for  the  cooking  of  this  olla  po- 
drida , and  during  that  time  the  feminine  por- 
tion of  the  company  have  arranged  either  a 


132 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


table  or  a level  spot  of  clean  sand  covered  with 
a cloth,  whereon  is  spread  the  variety  of  biscuit, 
cakes,  pies,  and  sweeties  for  which  Nantucket 
was  famous  in  the  Golden  Age,  — although  now 
the  ladies  are  generally  too  much  engrossed  in 
discussing  the  rights  of  man  (including  woman) 
and  the  last  new  thing  in  metaphysics,  to  have 
much  time  to  spare  for  the  mysteries  of  the 
culinary  art.  But  in  the  Golden  Age  there  was 
much  innocent  rivalry  in  the  manufacture  of  all 
sorts  of  toothsome  dainties ; and  the  result  was 
highly  pleasing,  no  doubt,  to  the  gallant  young 
fellows  who  living  four  fifths  of  their  lives  at  sea 
were  all  ready,  during  the  fifth  spent  on  shore, 
to  solace  the  inner  man  appreciatively. 

Nowadays  there  is,  to  be  sure,  less  motive  for 
the  preparation  of  those  compensatory  dainties, 
since  the  men  no  longer  go  to  sea,  and  conse- 
quently no  longer  come  home  again ; but  in  fact 
there  are  no  longer  any  men  upon  Nantucket 
except  the  veterans,  who  assemble  in  the  Cap’n’s 
Room  day  by  day  to  fight  over  their  old  battles 
with  whale  and  iceberg,  the  few  tradespeople, 
and  the  skippers  of  the  boats,  who  in  winter 
generally  go  to  the  Banks  cod-fishing.  But  the 
young  men,  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  land, 


A S QUANTUM. 


133 


who  should  be  the  hope  of  its  future  and  the 
strength  of  its  present,  are  gone.  Brave  fel- 
lows ! their  bones  lie  upon  many  a Southern 
battle-field,  in  many  an  ocean  depth,  both  North 
and  South;  for  when  the  country  called  for  vol- 
unteers to  give  their  lives  for  her  life  and  for  her 
honor,  this  little  island  responded  with  a gen- 
erous alacrity  that  left  her  drained  of  men  and 
means,  and  before  peace  was  declared  sent  al- 
most every  family  into  mourning.  In  i860  the 
population  was  6,094,  and  in  1870,  4,123;  and 
of  those  two  thousand  souls  a large  proportion 
might  have  claimed  the  record, — 

“Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori.” 

But  other  causes  have  co-operated  with  the 
war  to  drain  away  the  men  of  Nantucket.  The 
rumor  of  a new  Golconda  in  California  seems  to 
have  proved  a sort  of  intoxication  to  this  hardy 
and  fearless  people,  and  literally  thousands  of 
Nantucket  men  flocked  to  Eldorado,  as  miners, 
freighters,  tradesmen  : in  fact,  distributing  them- 
selves through  every  channel  of  industry  and 
money-making,  some  of  them  remaining  there, 
a few  returning,  and  the  larger  part  faring  still 
farther  a-field.  Another  great  draught  upon 


134 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Nantucket  has  been  the  call  for  men  to  “ go 
down  to  the  sea  in  ships”  belonging  to  almost 
every  nation  under  the  sun ; and  although  when 
sailing  out  of  Nantucket  they  naturally  returned 
thither,  even  if  at  long  intervals  and  for  brief 
spaces,  when  hailing  from  a foreign  port  they 
have  no  such  obligation,  and  probably  form  ties 
as  binding  as  those  at  home,  wherever  they  may 
chance  to  be. 

But  the  Squantum  ! the  Squantum  ! 

The  funny  little  railroad,  hardly  more  than  a 
tramway,  was  on  this  occasion  to  answer  instead 
of  a boat ; and  the  lovely  South  Shore  was  con- 
sidered more  convenient  for  typical  people  than 
Coatue,  Tuckernuck,  Pocomo,  and  the  other 
points  selected  by  the  daring  and  tireless  ad- 
venturers of  the  Golden  Age.  So,  on  a glori- 
ous summer  afternoon,  Dionis,  with  a shriek  of 
derisive  laughter,  deposited  some  fifty  persons 
among  the  lumber  of  the  incipient  Station, 
Rink,  and  Refreshment  House,  and  immediately 
backed  herself  to  Nantucket,  having  no  facilities 
for  turning  round,  leaving  the  Squantum  to  its 
fate.  It  seemed  a pleasant  and  eke  a comfort- 
able one,  for  there  was  a tent  with  tables  and 
benches,  instead  of  the  primitive  arrangement  of 


A SQUANTUM. 


135 


seats  upon  the  sand,  shingles  for  plates,  and 
fingers  for  forks,  incident  to  the  good  old  times. 
Also  there  were  other  benches  upon  the  brow  of 
the  cliff,  wherefrom  to  gaze  upon  the  view,  and 
there  was  the  broad,  level  beach,  and  the  steps 
leading  down  to  it.  At  a little  distance  was  a 
smoking  and  steaming  mound,  which  a man  was 
just  covering  with  boards, — and  therein  lay  the 
Hamlet  of  the  play,  Prince  Clam  himself. 

The*company  was  a selected  one,  intended  by 
the  projector  of  the  squantum,  himself  a literary 
man,  to  collect  what  our  modern  slang  calls  the 
“ culture’'  of  Nantucket  in  one  body,  and  present 
thereto  a person  who  had  expressed  to  him  the 
wish  to  meet  and  become  acquainted  with  that 
body. 

If  one  dared  digress  again  so  soon,  there  is  a 
great  temptation  in  this  word  “ culture,”  and  its 
root,  cult  and  cultus  (that  is  to  say,  worship),  and 
the  closer  than  etymological  mingling  of  root 
and  derivative  in  the  present  exaltation  of  intel- 
lect above  faith ; but  manfully  resisting  the 
temptation,  we  go  on  to  say  that  Nantucket  is  a 
remarkable  place  in  many  respects,  but  in  noth- 
ing more  remarkable  than  in  the  high  standard 
of  cult- ivated  intellect  set  up  and  fully  reached 


136 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


by  a large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants.  And 
when  one  in  speaking  of  Nantucket  says  “ inhabi- 
tants/' one  necessarily  means  women ; for  in  this 
assemblage  of  fifty  persons  there  were  not  more 
than  ten  men,  and  of  these  the  larger  part  were 
“ strangers.”  Everybody  knew  everybody,  and 
everybody  came  and  spoke  to  the  visitor,  with  a 
cordial  and  easy  grace  savoring  both  of  the 
primitive  hospitality  of  the  island,  especially  in 
an  al  fresco  entertainment  like  this,  and  of  that 
emancipation  of  manner  springing  not  only  from 
the  habit  of  society,  but  from  a large  and  varied 
study  of  mankind  through  literature  and  literary 
association.  A person  whose  mind  habitually 
deals  with  the  stars  (and  Miss  Maria  Mitchell  is 
Nantucket  born,  and  includes  her  native  island 
in  her  yearly  orbit),  or  with  the  systems  of  the 
most  advanced  thinkers  of  the  day  (and  Mill, 
Hegel,  Emerson,  and  Carlyle  are  household 
words  on  Nantucket),  or  who  reads  the  foreign 
and  domestic  newspapers,  and  studies  the  poli- 
tics of  the  world,  and  knows  just  what  Chili  is 
going  to  do,  and  where  the  American  navy  is, 
and  what  is  the  best  course  to  pursue  with  the 
Nihilists,  and  how  soon  there  will  be  an  Imperial 
reaction  in  France,  and  whether  the  “ Sick  Man” 


A S QUANTUM. 


1 37 


will  die  or  get  well,  and  who  beat  in  Egypt,  and 
who  inflicted  the  blow  upon  William  Patterson, 

— a person  who  knows  all  this,  we  say,  is  not 
awkward  or  silent  in  any  society,  but  having  the 
courage  of  her  opinions,  has  also  that  ease  and 
suavity  which  nothing  bestows  more  fully  than 
courage  and  knowledge  combined.  Most  of  the 
party  were  naturally  of,  or  approaching,  the  typ- 
ical age ; but  there  were  a few  specimens  of  la 
jeunesse  doree  besides  Rose,  Blanche,  and  Harry, 

— especially  two  pretty,  graceful  maidens,  un- 
spoiled by  the  world,  and  fresh  as  the  breeze 
tinting  their  cheeks,  who  came  and  bade  the 
stranger  welcome  to  Nantucket,  with  a simple 
ease  of  manner  and  sincerity  of  tone  seldom 
found  in  city  drawing-rooms.  A good  many  of 
the  older  women  were  comely  in  a maturer  way ; 
and  in  fact  there  is  something  wonderfully  pre- 
servative in  plenty  of  fresh  air  (especially  if  it  is 
salt  as  well  as  fresh),  good  consciences,  early 
hours,  and  activity  of  body  and  mind.  Mysie, 
looking  and  listening  through  two  or  three 
hours,  felt  that  this  little  barren  island  had  pro- 
duced a people  of  its  own,  and  one  of  which 
New  England  may  be  proud  and  fond.  Not 
only  may  she  boast  that  throughout  the  annals 


1 3 8 NANTUCKE  T SCRAPS. 

of  this  place  the  men  have  been  proved  brave 
and  the  women  pure,  but  that  on  these  solid 
foundation  stones  has  been  raised  a fair  column, 
whose  only  blemish  is  that  it  is  finished  with  the 
globe  and  not  with  the  cross. 

“ The  Squantum  is  ready ! ” gravely  an- 
nounced the  official  presiding  over  the  mound 
of  Hamlet,  and  at  the  word  everybody  gathered 
about  the  board  (literally  the  board)  under  the 
tent,  and  presently  the  clams  were  presented  hot 
and  hot,  each  one  lying  cosily  in  a bath  of  his 
own  juices,  his  lower  shell  offering  a sufficient 
dish,  his  upper  one  coyly  ajar  that  one  might 
see  the  treasure  within.  Now  Mysie  had  gone 
to  the  squantum  oppressed  with  at  least  one 
silent  terror  weighing  upon  her  spirits,  and  this 
was  that  she  would  be  obliged  in  courtesy  to 
taste  the  clams  in  spite  of  a very  pronounced 
aversion  to  that  “ festive  bivalve.”  But  once 
more  virtue  brought  its  own  reward ; a cour- 
teous neighbor  showed  her  how  the  casket  was 
most  judiciously  opened,  and  assured  her  that 
although  forks  were  permitted,  fingers  were  of 
older  date  and  of  greater  virtue.  The  neophyte 
obeyed,  took  up  the  morsel  in  her  fingers,  put 
it  in  her  mouth,  and  closed  her  eyes  lest  the 


A S QUANTUM. 


139 


expected  distaste  should  be  too  apparent.  But 
what ! Surely  this  luscious,  savory  morsel  melt- 
ing upon  one’s  palate,  and  conveying  an  essence- 
of-ocean  flavor  not  to  be  described,  was  not  a 
clam!  This  octave  note  of  the  song  of  the 
senses  chanted  by  summer  sky  and  weltering  sea 
and  fanning  breeze  and  languorous  sunshine, 
and  all  the  physical  joy  of  health,  Nature,  and 
idlesse,  — ah,  yes,  these  all  were  consummated 
in  the  flavor  of  that  first  ideal  clam ! Such  a 
surprise  is  not  to  be  repeated,  and  Mysie  ate 
no  more,  lest  the  demon  of  disillusionment 
should  lurk  within  the  shell ; but  she  did  eat  the 
one,  and  she  knows  the  gastronomic  climax  of 
a squantum,  and  can  most  earnestly  recommend 
it  to  her  friends. 

The  noble  rage  of  hunger  appeased,  a few 
persons,  both  men  and  women,  made  little  in- 
formal speeches,  generally  humorous,  — as  when 
the  young  lady  at  present  filling  the  pulpit  of 
the  North  Church  said  pensively,  that  no  poet 
but  Shelley  could  be  appropriately  quoted  just 
now,  adding  a personal  bon  mot  addressed  to 
the  stranger,  both  funny  and  complimentary. 
The  author  of  “ Rosedale,”  so  happily  success- 
ful both  as  novelist  and  journalist,  was  present, 


140 


NANTUCKET  S CP  A PS. 


a man  of  Nantucket  lineage  and  birth,  and  cos- 
mopolitan training,  who  made  a witty  speech  at 
the  time,  and  proved  most  agreeable  in  conver- 
sation afterward.  Mysie’s  neighbor,  — she  who 
had  so  deftly  opened  clams  and  good-humoredly 
encouraged  the  neophyte,  — was  called  upon, 
and  in  a few  terse,  strong  sentences  showed  quite 
another  side  of  character  from  the  playful  ease 
appropriate  to  the  feast ; dealing  now  with  the 
vexed  question  of  woman’s  claim  to  the  same 
part  as  man  in  the  world’s  fight,  and  showing  an 
energy  and  decision  in  the  matter  suggestive  of 
the  great  probability  of  her  gaining  whatever 
position  she  aimed  at. 

When  she  sat  down,  Mysie  timidly  asked  a 
question  about  some  point  of  which  she  had 
never  heard  before.  It  was  courteously  ex- 
plained, and  then  came  the  question, — 

“ Don’t  you  read  the  newspapers?” 

“ Very  seldom,”  replied  Mysie,  with  contri- 
tion. 

“ But  how  then  do  you  keep  yourself  informed 
of  the  movements  of  the  age,  in  our  own  and 
other  countries?”  was  the  severe  query. 

u I don’t,”  replied  Mysie,  yet  more  contritely; 
and  perceived  that  she  was  set  down  as  one 


A SQUANTUM. 


141 

of  those  flies  upon  the  wheel  of  Progress  who, 
however  minutely,  retard  its  victorious  course 
toward  that  Utopia  wherein  woman  is  to  be 
enfranchised,  cultured,  made  by  some  mysteri- 
ous process  free  of  those  physical  disabilities  at 
present  limiting  her  efforts,  and,  miraculously 
endowed  with  ability  to  carry  Adam’s  burden  as 
well  as  Eve’s,  to  find  time  for  double  the  work 
of  which  the  folk-song  says,  — 

“ Man  may  work  from  sun  to  sun, 

But  woman’s  work  is  never  done.” 

Probably  while  the  world  endures,  women  will 
love,  marry,  bear  children,  tend  them,  guide 
the  house,  and  even  to  old  age  remain  the 
central  point,  the  equilibrium,  of  the  home. 
One  does  not  very  well  see  how,  amidst  these 
engrossing  duties  and  joys,  the  woman  is  also 
to  read  Political  Economy,  study  and  weigh  the 
lives  of  public  men,  inform  herself  of  the  hidden 
mysteries  of  diplomacy  at  home  and  abroad, 
study  tariffs,  currency,  prohibitory"  laws,  and  the 
like,  without  all  which  knowledge  neither  man 
nor  woman  is  fit  to  take  part  in  the  councils  of 
the  nation,  or  to  throw  an  intelligent  vote.  And 
if,  endowed  with  superhuman  energy  and  ability, 


142 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


she  does  all  this  without  leaving  her  own  work 
undone,  and  finds  in  some  great  crisis  that  she  has 
arrived  at  opposite  conclusions  to  those  of  the 
man  of  her  heart  or  the  son  of  her  bosom,  will 
she  go  to  the  polls  and  glare  fiercely  in  the  eyes 
of  her  beloved  as  she  throws  the  vote  neutraliz- 
ing his?  Or  if,  as  is  more  likely,  the  stronger 
nature  dominates  the  weaker  or  more  loving,  can 
she  be  sure  that  if  she  prevails,  she  will  prove 
in  the  end  the  wiser  or  the  happier? 

“ All  women  do  not  marry.  In  Massachusetts 
alone,  the  excess  of  women  over  men  is  as,”  etc. 
We  are  all  familiar  with  that  formula;  but  where 
is  the  girl  of  seventeen  who  says,  or  who  will 
cheerfully  let  somebody  else  say  for  her : “ I am 
never  likely  to  marry ; four  women  out  of  five 
don’t,  and  of  course  I am  one  of  the  four.  I 
will  ask  papa  to  provide  me  some  political 
works,  some  Congressional  Reports,  and  the 
best  party  newspapers  on  both  sides,  and  begin 
to  fit  myself  for  perpetual  maidenhood  and  the 
political  arena.”  Ah,  Rose  and  Blanche,,  and 
pretty  slips  of  girls  generally,  is  that  the  way 
you  reason  in  your  own  loving  maidenly  hearts? 

But  when  grim  Time  has  brought  the  cer- 
tainty of  a single  life,  and  left  behind  him  some 


A SQUANTUM. 


H3 


of  those  bitter,  grievous  memories  buried  in 
almost  every  maiden  heart  past  its  youth,  is 
that  the  time  to  begin  to  study  kingcraft? 
For  in  a republic,  — and  God  bless  our  own  ! — 
every  voter  is  a sovereign.  Men  begin  their 
life’s  work  in  their  teens,  and  men  ripen  more 
slowly  and  last  longer  than  women.  Can  the 
woman  expect,  turning  to  man’s  work  as  a ref- 
uge from  woman’s  disappointment,  to  gain  the 
varied  information,  dispassionate  judgment,  in- 
bred  self-control  essential  to  a statesman,  or 
indeed  to  any  man  who  aims  to  guide  the 
world? 

The  dregs  of  a life  disappointed  of  its  best 
hopes  are  fit  to  offer  neither  to  God  nor  man. 

The  feast  both  of  clams  and  oratory  finished, 
the  company  returned  to  the  outer  air,  where 
an  enterprising  photographer,  brought  out  from 
town  by  Dionis  during  the  dinner,  petitioned  for 
leave  to  make  a picture  of  the  group,  relying 
for  payment  upon  the  inherent  vanity  of  man- 
kind, which  was  sure  to  induce  every  man  and 
woman  there  to  buy  one  of  the  pictures  as  con- 
taining his  or  her  own  portrait. 

Finally,  as  twilight  fell  upon  the  sea  and  on 
the  purple  moors  stretching  far  out  of  sight 


144 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


along  its  shore,  the  gay  party  went  home, 
their  hearts  warm  with  mutual  content  and 
charity. 

Later  in  the  evening,  tempted  by  the  radiant 
charm  of  the  full  moon,  Mysie  strayed  around 
the  town,  still  and  calm  as  moonlight  itself,  and 
looking  in  at  the  Old  North  Vestry  heard  the 
young  pastor  eloquently  weaving  some  allusions 
to  the  fifty  who  Sat  down  and  ate  bread  and  fish 
upon  the  seashore  that  day,  into  an  exegesis  of 
the  feeding  of  the  five  hundred  who  sat  down 
by  fifties  on  another  shore  and  in  other  days, 
and  yet  the  Giver  always  the  same. 


SCRAP  X. 

SCONSET. 

EVEN  miles  from  the  town  of  Nan- 
tucket, on  the  bold  headland  facing  full 
Atlantic,  at  the  southeast  extremity  of 
the  island,  lies  the  fishing  hamlet  of  Siasconset, 
or,  as  it  is  indigenously  styled,  Sconset.  Like  the 
rest  of  the  island,  or  even  more  than  other  locali- 
ties, this  hamlet  is  fast  hastening  to  destruction, — 
that  paradoxical  destruction  born  of  prosperity. 
It  was  built,  or  rather  a few  fishing-houses  for 
occasional  use  were  built,  in  1676,  and  for  two 
hundred  years  it  bore  a character  all  its  own, 
as  distinctly  flavored,  and  to  the  appreciative 
palate  as  piquant  and  delicious,  as  that  one 
squantum  clam.  But,  alas ! the  world  has 
found  it  out,  has  laid  its  degrading  and  com- 
monplace grasp  upon  it;  and  the  beginning  of 
the  end  already  stares  one  in  the  face  in  shape 
of  cottages  ornee , inclosed  grounds  instead  of 
“ commons,”  and  groups  of  summer  boarders 


10 


146 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


in  dreadfully  correct  costumes  sitting  upon  ve- 
randas, or,  in  wild  abandonment  to  the  freedom 
of  untrammelled  Nature,  crouched  upon  shawls 
spread  on  the  sand,  and  doing  tatting  and  ric- 
rac  under  the  shade  of  an  umbrella. 

It  is  a moot  question  where  life  ceases  to  be 
conscious  of  itself  and  its  surroundings.  Mysie 
is  inclined  to  think  all  creation  is  conscious  in 
its  own  way,  and  that  man’s  assumption  that 
his  own  little  link  in  the  chain  is  the  only  one 
endowed  with  what  he  calls  reason,  is  only  one 
more  proof  of  the  charming  arrogance  char- 
acteristic of  that  special  link.  Most  of  the  old 
houses  at  Sconset  have  stood  there  for  more 
than  a century,  the  stones,  the  sand,  the  gray 
old  walls,  the  wild  moorland  are  the  same ; what 
if  all  these  know  and  feel  their  own  aristocratic 
dignity,  and  the  spic-and-span  newness  of  the 
new  lords  and  new  laws  who  are  coming  to  push 
them  from  their  stools  ! Fancy  an  old  Castilian 
hidalgo,  poor  as  poverty  and  proud  as  Lucifer, 
who  sees  a colony  of  Manchester  cotton-spinners 
building  wooden  villas  and  lodging-houses  for 
operatives  just  outside  his  gates  and  opposite 
his  very  windows  ! Ten  years  from  now,  unless 
some  kind  Fate  avert,  one  might  as  well  stop  at 


SC  ONSET. 


1 4 7 


Cottage  City  as  go  on  to  Sconset,  and  might 
hope  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  unspoiled  Na- 
ture, human  or  inhuman,  as  quietly  at  Long 
Branch  as  at  Sankaty  Head. 

Let  us  read  the  description  of  this  place  a 
century  ago,  given  by  Hector  St.  John.  Already 
it  has  the  mystical  flavor  of  antiquity,  the  sad 
refrain  of  Nevermore,  so  strangely  attractive  to 
the  soul  whose  highest  hope  is  Evermore ; but 
when  the  ten  years  are  passed,  the  story  of  the 
American  Planter  will  have  become  all  but 
mythical : — 

“ I arrived  at  last  at  Siasconset.  Several  dwellings 
had  been  erected  on  this  wild  shore  for  the  purpose 
of  sheltering  the  fishermen  in  the  season  of  fishing, 
but  I found  them  all  empty  except  the  particular  one 
to  which  I had  been  directed.  It  was,  like  the  others, 
built  oil  the  highest  part  of  the  shore,  in  the  face  of 
the  great  ocean ; the  soil  appeared  to  be  composed 
of  no  other  stratum  but  sand,  covered  with  a thinly 
scattered  herbage.  What  rendered  this  house  still 
more  worthy  of  notice  in  my  eyes  was,  that  it  had  been 
built  on  the  ruins  of  one  of  the  ancient  huts  erected 
by  the  first  settlers  for  observing  the  appearance  of  the 
whales.  Here  lived  a single  family  without  a neighbor. 
I have  never  seen  a spot  better  calculated  to  cherish 
contemplative  ideas ; perfectly  unconnected  with  the 
great  world,  and  far  removed  from . its  perturbations. 


1 48 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


the  ever-raging  ocean  was  all  that  presented  itself  to 
the  view  of  this  family,  — and  it  irresistibly  attracted  my 
whole  attention. 

“ This  family  lived  entirely  by  fishing,  for  the  plough 
had  not  yet  dared  to  disturb  the  parched  surface  of 
the  neighboring  plain;  and,  indeed,  to  what  purpose 
could  this  operation  be  performed  ? Here  I found  a 
numerous  family  of  children  of  various  ages,  the  bless- 
ings of  an  early  marriage ; they  were  ruddy  as  the 
cherry,  healthy  as  the  fish  they  lived  on,  hardy  as  the 
pine  knots.  The  eldest  were  already  able  to  encounter 
the  boisterous  waves,  and  shuddered  not  at  their  ap- 
proach, early  initiating  themselves  into  the  mysteries 
of  that  seafaring  career  for  which  they  were  all  in- 
tended ; the  younger,  timid  as  yet,  on  the  edge  of  a 
less  agitated  pool  [‘Corn  Pond?  ’],  were  teaching  them- 
selves with  nut-shells  and  pieces  of  wood,  in  imitation 
of  boats,  how  to  navigate  in  a future  day  the  larger 
vessels  of  their  father  through  a rougher  and  deeper 
ocean.  I stayed  here  two  days,  on  purpose  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  various  branches  of  their 
economy  and  their  manner  of  living  in  this  singular 
retreat.  The  clams  (the  oysters  of  this  shore),  with 
Indian  dumplings  (a  peculiar  preparation  of  Indian 
meal  boiled  in  large  lumps),  constituted  their  daily  and 
most  substantial  food.  Larger  fish  were  often  caught 
on  the  neighboring  Rips,  and  these  afforded  them  their 
greatest  dainties.  They  had  likewise  plenty  of  smoked 
bacon. 


SC  ONSET. 


149 


“ The  noise  of  the  spinning  wheels  announced  the 
industry  of  the  mother  and  daughters.  One  of  them 
had  been  bred  a weaver,  and,  having  a loom  in  the 
.house,  found  means  of  clothing  the  whole  family. 
They  were  perfectly  at  ease,  and  seemed  to  want  for 
nothing.” 

Our  planter  goes  on  to  say,  speaking  of  the 
island  ’generally,  that  he  found  very  few  books 
among  the  inhabitants,  — a few  Bibles  and 
school-books,  both  in  the  English  and  Natick- 
Indian  tongues,  and  also  several  copies  of  Hudi- 
bras  and  of  Josephus;  Hudibras  being  the  favor- 
ite of  the  whole,  although,  as  he  naively  remarks, 
nobody  appeared  in  the  least  to  understand  the 
satire. 

From  this  nucleus  of  one  settled  home,  Scon- 
set  grew  through  the  next  century  to  a hamlet 
of  permanent  inhabitants,  many  of  the  houses 
being  built  upon  the  ruins  of  the  huts  erected  to 
observe  the  whales,  as  Hector  puts  it,  and  many 
of  the  huts  being  enlarged  and  strengthened 
into  stocky  little  houses  spreading  themselves 
upon  the  ground,  and  crouching  their  bodies  to 
let  the  wind  blow  over  them, — very  much  as  one 
may  have  seen  an  Isopod  iniscus  flatten  herself 
to  the  ground  when  the  sheltering  board  or  stone 


1 5°  NANTUCKE T SCRAPS. 

was  lifted  off.  Those  dwellings  erected  by  men 
who  regarded  the  sea  as  a large  stew-pond, 
intended  to  provide  them  with  cod,  hake,  and 
haddock,  an  occasional  whale,  and  the  frequent 
clam,  took  it  no  more  into  account  in  placing 
their  houses  than  they  did  the  turnip  field 
which  had  at  last  invaded  the  sterile  common, 
of  whose  capacities  the  “ Pennsylvania  Farmer  ” 
speaks  so  contemptuously.  They  did  not  want 
to  see  the  sea,  and  they  did  want  to  see  each 
other;  so  the  first  permanent  cottages  were  built 
in  two  rows  facing  each  other,  just  like  the  lads 
and  lasses  in  a contra  dance, — the  weather  row,  so 
to  speak,  turning  their  backs  upon  the  ocean,  and 
carrying  their  squat  roofs  so  near  to  the  ground 
as  to  leave  only  room  for  some  pig-pens,  rubbish 
heaps,  and  fish-sheds  opposite  the  back  win- 
dows; and  as  they  were  placed  so  close  together 
that  the  housewives  could  easily  converse  with 
each  other  out  of  the  end  windows  while  at  their 
work,  this  line  of  cottages  entirely  shut  off  the 
sea-view  from  their  opposite  neighbors,  — the 
result  being  a little  village  perched  on  the  verge 
of  a cliff  overlooking  a magnificent  marine  view, 
and  hardly  a window  in  it  from  which  one  can 
see  the  water ! 


SCONSET. 


ISI 

The  next  cycle  of  Sconset  history  was  marked 
by  the  discovery  of  some  of  the  Nantucket  mag- 
nates who  had  grown  rich  by  whaling,  that  the 
air  of  this  locality  was  much  more  bracing  than 
that  of  the  town,  or  even  of  the  west  Cliff  ad- 
joining it,  and  that  it  would  be  rather  a good 
idea  to  go  out  there  and  stay  a part  of  the  sum- 
mer. The  little  mob  of  cottages  setting  to  each 
other  upon  the  brow  of  the  cliff  offered  no  fit- 
ting accommodation  for  these  magnates,  even 
had  there  been  enough  in  number,  and  they 
proceeded  to  erect  a sort  of  marine  villa  as  dif- 
ferent from  the  impertinences  of  to-day  as  they 
were  from  the  huts  of  the  whale  observers, — be- 
ing plain,  comfortable  houses,  painted  with  many 
coats  of  white  or  Quaker-brown  paint,  with  green 
blinds,  a piazza  in  front,  and  a “walk”  on  top,  a 
little  stable  to  shelter  the  excellent  horse,  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  a family  living  seven  miles 
from  its  home  or  any  sort  of  market,  and  an  en- 
closed paddock  for  the  cow,  whose  milk,  in  the 
degeneracy  of  the  age,  had  become  an  essen- 
tial to  the  grandchildren  of  those  who  had  lived 
contentedly  on  clams  and  Indian  dumplings. 
These  dignified  and  comfortable  summer  dwell- 
ings were  arranged  in  a street  running  at  right 


i$2 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


angles  to  that  upon  the  cliff,  and  forming  an 
approach  to  it ; but  these,  as  befitted  their  dig- 
nity, stood  well  apart,  each  in  its  own  grounds, 
while  the  street  was  so  wide  that  at  least  three 
wheel-tracks  to-day  serpentine  through  the  grass 
clothing  it  from  side  to  side.  Here  the  well- 
to-do  ship-owner,  merchant,  or  captain,  his  wife 
and  children,  with  perhaps  a “help”  or  two, 
came  out  in  the  summer  time,  bringing  great 
hampers  of  provisions,  beds,  old  clothes  to  be 
worn  out,  and  some  ponderous  pieces  of  sewing 
to  be  accomplished  in  the  long  still  days.  The 
fathers  went  fishing,  stood  on  the  cliff  with  spy- 
glasses in  their  hands  watching  for  wrecks,  or 
sat  upon  each  other’s  piazza  in  roomy  leathern 
arm-chairs  tilted  back,  smoking  interminable 
pipes,  and  slowly  telling  as  interminable  sto- 
ries. The  mothers  kept  the  house,  did  that 
sewing,  or  took  their  knitting-work  and  ran  into 
neighbor  So-and-so’s  to  have  a little  afternoon 
chat,  and  learn  the  new  recipe  for  sponge  cake 
or  green-corn  pudding.  The  children  ran  wild, 
dug  wells  upon  the  beach,  built  sand-forts,  tum- 
bled down  the  cliff,  and  roamed  the  moors  for 
berries  or  wild-flowers.  And  the  young  folks? 
Well,  they  amused  themselves,  too.  Ask  any 


SC  ONSET. 


153 


middle-aged  Nantucketer  what  he  or  she  used 
to  do  at  Sconset  summer  evenings,  and  first  he 
or  she  will  laugh  roguishly,  then  sigh  regret- 
fully, then  say:  “Well,  well,  young  folks  will  be 
young  folks,  you  know,”  and  then  proceed  to 
give  you  some  very  amusing  stories. 

One  of  the  whimsical  links  between  man  and 
the  lower  orders  of  creation  here  presents  itself 
to  contemplation.  The  tutelary  deity  of  Sconset 
was  the  whale;  the  earliest  buildings  were  “the 
huts  built  by  the  first  settlers  for  observing  the 
appearance  of  the  whales.”  Having  observed 
and  captured  a good  many  of  them,  the  descend- 
ants of  these  first  settlers  became  rich  enough  to 
build  summer  houses  at  Sconset  and  take  their 
pleasure  therein  on  a very  liberal  scale  of  house- 
keeping. The  whales  departed  from  observa- 
tion not  only  of  the  settlers,  but  even  of  the 
vessels  circling  the  Poles  in  search  of  them ; 
the  men  enriched  by  whaling  grew  poor;  the 
summer  houses,  no  longer  repaired  and  painted, 
grew  forlorn  and  monumental ; the  owners  died 
and  their  children  went  away;  nobody  bought 
houses  which  everybody  wished  to  sell ; and 
the  whale,  and  the  magnates,  and  the  Golden 
Age  deserted  Sconset  all  at  once. 


154 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


For  some  mournful  years  the  villas  stood 
closed,  forlorn,  and  hopeless ; the  contra  dance 
upon  the  cliff  went  on  all  the  same,  for  the  men 
who  live  by  cod,  haddock,  and  hake  are  much 
more  certain  to  find  their  living  than  those  who 
live  by  whales.  What  saith  Bunyan : — 

“He  that  is  down  needs  fear  no  fall ; 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride  ; 

He  that  is  humble  ever  shall  ” — 

but  the  last  line  does  not  fit  Nantucket  even  at 
Sconset.  And  during  these  prosperous  years, 
and  later  on,  a great  many  more  little  squat  cot- 
tages grew  up  behind  the  contra  dance,  and  a 
town-pump  gave  solidity  and  a nucleus  to  the 
settlement ; and  a good  many  of  the  townspeo- 
ple — not  at  all  rich  or  magnate-ical  — owned 
these  cottages  and  came  out  in  a quiet  way  to 
spend  a few  days  and  get  a change  of  air;  and 
the  failure  of  the  whale-crop  did  not  very  much 
alter  this  custom,  except  by  making  everything 
a good  deal  more  quiet. 

But  now,  since  1880,  another  change  has  come 
upon  Sconset;  now  the  hardy  fisherman  upon 
the  cliff  finds  that  he  can  make  more  money  by 
renting  his  cottage  to  the  summer  boarder,  and 
himself  going  “ down  town  ” for  change  of  air, 


SC  ONSET 


155 


than  by  living  quietly  at  home.  And  the  hardy 
fisherman  having  a keen  eye  to  his  own  inter- 
est, pursues  it;  and  the  summer  boarder  hiring 
the  cottage  puts  a little  board  on  the  outside 
announcing  that  this  is  Miacomet  Lodge,  or 
Sans  Souci,  or  Ric-Rac  Refuge,  or  some  equally 
appropriate  title ; and  having  arranged  some 
striped  shawls,  cretonne,  brackets,  vases,  and 
other  paraphernalia  of  home-making,  proceeds 
to  enjoy  himself,  herself,  itself,  very  satisfacto- 
rily to  all  but  the  discontented  traveller,  who, 
flying  from  the  atmosphere  of  city  ways,  city 
talk,  city  thoughts,  experiences,  and  anticipa- 
tions, comes  to  this  little  out  of  the  way  corner 
of  the  globe  to  find  all  that  he  has  fled  thrust- 
ing its  head  out  of  the  fishermen’s  windows 
with,  — - 

“Excuse  me;  but  do  you  know  if  Captain 
Baxter  has  brought  the  mail-bag  yet?  I am  so 
anxious  to  see  this  morning’s  ‘ Advertiser.’  ” 

Oppressed  with  these  thoughts,  and  saunter- 
ing moodily  along  the  edge  of  the  cliff  one  day, 
Mysie  came  upon  an  ancient  man,  sitting  on  a 
bench  and  looking  through  a spy-glass.  Her 
heart  warmed  to  him  as  it  might  to  Osceola 
viewing  the  graves  of  the  Seminoles;  and  as 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


156 

he  courteously  moved  to  the  other  end  of  the 
bench  and  said  it  was  a fine  morning,  she  sat 
down  and  echoed  the  sentiment.  The  spy-glass 
was  offered,  but  being  able  to  discern  both  the 
sky  and  the  sea  with  the  naked  eye,  and  there 
being  nothing  else  to  look  at,  Mysie  declined 
the  civility.  Fancying,  however,  that  her  new 
friend  looked  a little  disconcerted,  she  said,  — 

“ I suppose  you  are  quite  in  the  habit  of  com- 
ing out  here  to  look  for  wrecks,  are  you  not?  ” 

“ Faith,  thin,”  replied  the  venerable  being, 
speaking  in  extenso  for  the  first  time,  “ it ’s  the 
only  toime  I iver  was  herre  in  me  life,  and  I 
hope  it’ll  be  the  last;  fur  a nastier  hole  I niver 
see. 

“ Oh,  you  don’t  live  here,  then?”  inquired 
Mysie,  feeling  as  if  she  were  in  a cold  shower- 
bath. 

. “ Me  live  herre  ! ” exclaimed  he,  indignantly; 
“ me  home  is  in  South  Boston,  wid  an  iligant 
view  of  the  harrbor  and  forty-eight  ferry-boats 
a day  just  forninst  me  house,  and  a street-band 
three  times  a week  in  the  Square,  and  the  church 
jist  handy;  and  what  made  me  gurrls  think  av 
cornin’  to  this  haythin  ould  place,  bates  me.” 

And  this  was  Mysie’s  Ancient  Mariner ! 


SC  ONSET. 


i5  7 


This,  however,  is  episodical,  and  we  go  back 
to  the  day  when  a big  wagon,  drawn  by  two 
very  competent  horses,  stood  before  the  house 
in  Pearl  Street,  and  the  papa  and  mamma,  with 
Rose,  Blanche,  and  Harry,  and  the  sehor  and 
senora,  with  the  joven,  the  sehorita,  the  nino 
and  nina,  and  finally  Mysie  and  the  driver,  were 
gayly  packed  into  the  four  capacious  seats  and 
drove  away  as  enthusiastically  and  noisily,  after 
leaving  the  precincts  of  the  town,  as  if  not  one 
member  of  the  party  had  attained  years  of  dis- 
cretion,— that  much-lauded  condition  not  being 
usually  attained  without  the  payment  of  a good 
deal  of  the  capacity  for  enjoying  irrational  en- 
joyments, such  as  jolting  over  a rough  road, 
mimicking  Dionis,  singing  college  songs,  making 
puns,  and  laughing  at  those  made  by  others. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Mysie  first  saw 
the  Nantucket  moors,  — and  yet  did  not  see 
them,  for,  with  moors  as  with  ocean  and  moun- 
tains, one  must  be  in  the  mood  to  see,  or  one 
sees  nothing,  except  as  a surveyor. 

In  the  calm  light  of  reason  these  moors  con- 
sist of  some  hundreds  of  acres  of  nearly  level 
land,  comprising  the  whole  interior  of  the  island, 
and  stretching  from  shore  to  shore.  The  seven' 


158 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


mile  road  to  Sconset  lies  across  them,  and  once 
clear  of  the  town  and  past  the  outlying  farms, 
one  might  well  fancy  himself  not  only  out  of 
New  England,  but  out  of  America,  and  set  down 
on  a Yorkshire  or  Scottish  moor.  Some  peo- 
ple say,  “ Oh,  is  n’t  it  just  like  a prairie?  ” But 
it  isn’t;  for  it  lacks  the  immensity,  the  leisurely 
sweep  to  an  almost  unattainable  horizon,  the 
grandeur  and  oppressiveness  of  a genuine  prai- 
rie. Besides,  the  soil,  which  Hector  St.  John 
justly  describes  as  a stratum  of  sand  thinly 
covered  with  poor  soil,  is  not  in  the  least  like 
the  wealthy  loam  of  one  class  of  prairie,  or  the 
alkaline  or  shardy  soil  of  others ; and  of  course 
the  soil  affects  the  herbage,  and  here  we  have 
neither  buffalo-grass,  sage-bush,  nor  mesquite, — 
no  grasses  at  all  in  fact,  but  an  infinity  of  those 
native  growths  we  call  weeds,  hardy  independ- 
ent little  individuals,  true  Nantucketers,  satisfied 
with  their  own  identity,  and  serenely  indifferent 
to  the  fact  that  their  visitors  are  searching 
among  them  for  what  is  not  there.  Most  of 
these  happy  little  weeds  have  flowers,  not  al- 
ways very  perceptible,  but  to  be  found  by  sym- 
pathetic eyes;  and  some  of  them  are  royal  in 
their  beauty  like  the  scarlet  lilies  (reminding  one 


SC  ONSET. 


159 


always  of  Solomon),  the  deep-tinted  firm-petaled 
wild  roses,  the  azaleas  or  swamp  honeysuckle, 
and  the  rare  sebacia,  found  in  one  or  two  places. 
But  chief  among  the  flora  of  these  moors  is 
ranked,  both  by  inhabitants  and  visitors,  some 
patches  of  veritable  heather,  — none  of  the 
make-believes  doing  duty  in  various  parts  of 
our  country  for  this  Old-World  darling  of  poet, 
painter,  and  pedestrian,  but  true  purple  Scotch 
heather.  It  is  a little  shy,  and  it  is  not  every- 
body who  is  invited  to  its  pleasaunce . Mysie 
discovered  a patch  one  day  during  a big  walk, 
and  found  herself  disliked  by  a Nantucket  friend 
to  whom  she  spoke  carelessly  of  what  she  had 
seen,  showing  proof  in  two  or  three  stalks  at  her 
button-hole. 

“ Oh,  but  we  don’t  like  people  to  find  out 
where  it  grows  ! * naively  exclaimed  the  botanist ; 
and  Mysie  sympathized  with  her,  for  she  had 
known  the  misery  of  seeing  a lovely  woodland 
nest  of  climbing  fern  desecrated  and  desolated 
by  annual  invasions  of  Goths,  who,  not  content 
with  loading  buckets  and  boxes  with  the  beauti- 
tiful  fronds,  tore  up  the  plants  by  the  roots, 
dragged  them  down  from  the  heights,  and  tram- 
pled and  destroyed,  until  nothing  was  left,  and 


i6o 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


the  invasion  ceased.  Also  she  remembers  the 
time  when  the  sweet-breathed,  rose-tinted  may- 
flower  ( Epigea  repens ) was  really  a prize,  and 
only  to  be  found  by  going  to  its  own  country 
near  Plymouth  Rock,  or  was  received  as  a spe- 
cial token  of  regard  from  one’s  cousins  living  in 
that  neighborhood ; but  now  it  is  as  much  mat- 
ter of  merchandise  as  pea-nuts,  and  suggests  as 
tender  associations. 

By  next  year,  probably  the  “ smart  ” boys  of 
Nantucket  will  have  discovered  that  heather 
is  scarce  and  therefore  valuable,  and  every 
inch  of  the  “ commons  ” will  be  searched  and 
every  plant  plucked  from  its  home  of  centuries. 
Eheu  ! 

In  former  times  anybody  wishing  to  drive 
from  town  to  Sconset,  or  to  the  South  Shore,  did 
so  at  his  own  discretion;  and  if  he  found  too 
many  of  his  neighbors  had  followed  his  favorite 
line,  so  that  the  wheels  had  cut  inconveniently 
deep  through  the  surface  and  into  the  sand,  he 
took  a parallel  line,  until  at  last  the  course  as 
the  crow  flies  from  town  to  Sconset  was  scarred 
with  wheel-tracks,  like  the  bars  of  a gridiron 
or  the  wrinkles  on  a discontented  brow.  Time 
does  not  smooth  out  wrinkles  as  a general  thing, 


SCOArSET. 


161 


and  he  did  not  these.  Kindly  Nature  has  to  be 
sure  covered  them  with  a charitable  mantle  of 
green ; but  this  makes  the  matter  of  driving  over 
them  worse,  since  the  wheels  and  the  horse’s 
missteps  discover  the  inequalities  of  the  surface, 
instead  of  the  driver’s  eyes.  Moved  by  these 
annoyances,  somebody  struck  out  the  “New 
Road”  to  Sconset,  which  claims  to  be  somewhat 
shorter,  but,  as  dispassionate  judges  decide,  is 
already  about  as  bad  in  condition  as  the  old. 
An  attempt  was  made  to  border  this  road  with 
evergreen  trees,  and  Captain  Josiah  Sturgis,  Mr. 
Gardner,  and  the  town  fathers  all  did  something 
in  that  way ; but  it  is  the  less  important  to  dis- 
cover exactly  who  claims  the  greatest  share  of 
the  work,  since  the  trees  are  all  dead,  dying,  or 
relapsing  into  nothingness  by  shrivelling  in  the 
east  wind.  When  the  white  man  first  discov- 
ered this  little  island  it  was  covered  with  a heavy 
growth  of  oak,  cedar,  and  other  timber,  but  as 
usual  the  white  man  soon  disposed  of  all  that 
sort  of  thing  without  an  attempt  to  replace  it; 
and  after  a couple  of  centuries  of  parching  and 
starving,  the  indignant  soil  refuses  to  support 
the  new  growth  which  the  white  man  has  be- 
come civilized  enough  to  desire.  However,  to 


ii 


1 62  NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 

our  mind  the  bare  wind-swept  moors,  with  the 
sea  glimmering  on  the  horizon,  is  better  than 
woodland. 

And  so  the  big  wagon  reached  Sconset,  every 
feminine  hand  holding  a bunch  of  flowers,  every 
masculine  frame  glowing  and  breathless  from 
its  exertions  in  jumping  out  to  gather  them, 
and  then  running  after  the  wagon  which  waited 
for  nobody.  Down  the  wide  street  with  the 
closed  balaenarian  villas  and  the  two  hotels, — 
one  old  and  the  other  new,  and  each  possess- 
ing its  own  character,  — and  through  the  green 
lanes  dividing  the  rows  of  fishermen’s  cottages 
close  upon  the  cliff,  to  a pleasant  little  house 
standing  across  the  end  of  the  street,  and  never 
seeming  to  imagine  it  was  in  anybody’s  path; 
and  here  a cheery  old  man  — once  the  dauntless 
commander  of  a whaling  ship,  then  a fisherman, 
and  now  a much-to-be-prized  narrator  of  sea- 
stories  — took  charge  of  the  horses,  and  invited 
the  guests  into  his  house.  They  preferred  the 
beach,  however,  and  after  straying  for  a while 
along  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  thirty-three  feet  high 
here,  and  commanding  the  same  illimitable,  sail- 
less expanse  of  vexed  waters  as  that  at  South 
Shore,  they  descended  some  steps  to  the  sands. 


SC  ONSET. 


163 


Here  were  collected  nearly  all  the  summer  pop- 
ulation of  Sconset,  for  it  was  the  bathing  hour; 
and  although  only  a few  persons  are  determined 
enough  to  adventure  in  these  troubled  waters, 
everybody  likes  to  see  other  persons  doing  so. 

It  is  certainly  rather  a heroic  amusement,  and 
better  suited  to  the  “ athletes,”  who  in  the  lightest 
of  costumes  plunged  boldly  in,  diving  through 
the  toppling  wall  of  the  approaching  breaker 
and  disporting  themselves  outside  the  line  of 
surf  like  young  Neptunes,  than  to  the  women, 
who,  fettered  in  decent  clothing,  clung  convul- 
sively to  a rope,  one  end  made  fast  on  shore, 
the  other  about  twenty  feet  out  at  sea,  and 
allowed  the  incoming  waves  to  break  over 
them.  Owing  to  the  violence  of  the  tide  the 
water  is  very  dirty,  bringing  in  quantities  of 
seaweed  torn  into  little  clinging  bits,  a great 
deal  of  sand,  and  a scum  of  yellowish  color  look- 
ing like  conglomerated  fish-oil.  The  natural 
result  is,  that,  after  clinging  to  the  rope  for  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes  and  being  deluged  with  twice 
as  many  breakers,  the  ladies  emerge,  or  rather 
get  up  and  run  away  before  the  next  wave 
catches  them,  covered  with  a shag  of  marine 
debris,  very  salubrious  no  doubt,  but  reminding 


164 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


one  of  the  pictures  of  Orson  in  the  child’s  story- 
book, and  suggestive  of  some  very  protracted 
cleansing  process  before  dress  or  wearer  can 
be  made  presentable.  But  it  was  a pretty  sight 
to  see  a stalwart  pater  familias , an  exponent  of 
muscular  Christianity  as  it  was  reported,  who 
came  down  to  the  water  followed  by  four  or  five 
little  blue-flannel-suited  creatures,  and  left  them 
standing  hand  in  hand  at  the  edge  of  the  water, 
curling  their  little  white  toes  into  the  sand  and 
shrieking  with  delight,  while  he  plunged  round 
for  a while  by  himself,  executing  various  ele- 
phantine gambols  for  the  amusement  of  his  chil- 
dren; then,  standing  mid-leg  deep,  he  took  one 
after  the  other  in  his  arms  and  dipped  and  ducked 
them  carefully  but  quite  thoroughly,  the  smaller 
ones  clinging  tight  to  his  neck  with  an  undoubt- 
ing faith,  very  pretty  and  very  suggestive  of  a 
true  paternal  and  filial  relationship.  When  all 
were  done  they  scuttled  away  to  the  bathing- 
houses  like  a covey  of  partridge  chicks,  and  the 
father,  taking  a header  through  the  next  emer- 
ald wall  rising  in  front  of  him,  swam  out  toward 
Africa,  but,  as  one  most  devoutly  hopes,  did  not 
go  all  the  way. 

Not  feeling  at  all  attracted  to  Sconset  as  thus 


SC  ONSET. 


165 


seen  in  possession  of  her  brother  and  sister 
coofs,  Mysie  still  felt  it  a duty  to  “do  it”  thor- 
oughly, and  accordingly  engaged  board  at  one 
of  the  hotels  for  a date  some  weeks  in  advance ; 
then  joyfully  resuming  their  seats  in  the  big 
wagon,  the  gay  party  drove  townward  again 
over  the  moors  where  now  the  great  gray  owls 
hiding  in  the  swamps  at  the  foot  of  Saul's  Hills 
began  to  flit  mysteriously  across  the  darkening 
sky,  and  the  mists  to  gather  ghostily  in  the 
heathery  hollows. 

But  not  yet  did  the  moors  reveal  themselves, 
fof  like  the  owls  they  love  not  gay  crowds. 


SCRAP  XI. 

SCONSET  IN  SUMMER. 

T has  been  mentioned  by  several  authors 
in  several  tongues,  both  dead  and  liv- 
ing, that  this  world  is  given  to  change ; 
and  one  finds  it  easier  to  receive  this  axiom  with 
the  faith  appropriate  to  so  venerable  a saying, 
by  having  proved  it  true  very  often  in  one’s  own 
experience.  Nantucket,  in  its  normal  condition, 
was  not  changeable ; but  in  its  present  condi- 
tion it  is  about  as  changeable  as  the  hands  of 
a clock,  or  the  line  of  surf  upon  a beach,  or  the 
size  of  the  visible  moon.  Three  weeks  from 
the  day  of  the  Sconset  party,  its  members  were 
scattered  far  and  wide,  — Mysie,  and  probably 
the  driver,  alone  remaining  on  Nantucket.  The 
senor,  the  senora,  the  joven,  senorita,  nino  and 
nina,  Rose,  Blanche,  Harry,  the  papa  and  mam- 
ma,— all  were  gone.  New  faces  surrounded  the 
table,  new  forms  filled  the  parlor,  hall,  and  porch  ; 
the  Coffin  reunion  was  approaching,  and  the  Clan 


SCONSET  IN  SUMMER.  1 67 

Coffin  was  gathering  from  north,  east,  south, 
and  west. 

Again,  it  has  been  averred  by  several  authors, 
that,  in  a changing  world,  no  detail  is  more 
changeable  than  woman.  This  is  an  error : 
woman  is  constant,  sometimes  for  quite  long 
periods  of  time ; and  Mysie,  being  the  most 
constant  of  her  sex,  declined  to  become  inter- 
ested in  new  friends,  preferring  to  wander  with 
the  simulachre  of  Blanche  to  the  Old  North 
Burying-ground,  and  sit  upon  a tomb  looking  at 
the  ripening  blackberries',  and  wishing  the  child 
were  there  to  tease  her  about  them,  or  to  stroll 
disconsolately  through  Guinea  and  the  water- 
side streets,  wishing  for  somebody  to  tell  her 
their  legends.  But  Experience, 

“ with  a subtile  smile  in  her  mild  eyes, 

The  herald  of  her  triumph,  drawing  nigh, 

Half  whispered  in  her  ear  — ” 

“You  are  getting  bored  in  this  place;  go  away 
for  a little,  and  when  you  come  back  there  will 
be  something  new  to  interest  you.”  It  was  good 
advice,  if  a little  cynical;  and  Mysie  made  ar- 
rangements to  go,  earlier  than  she  had  planned, 
for  a week  or  two  to  Sconset.  Now  the  usual 
way  to  go  to  Sconset  is  to  take  passage  with 


1 68  NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 

Captain  Baxter,  who  comes  over  every  day  to 
meet  the  boat  and  fetch  the  mail ; or  with  Levi 
Coffin,  who  drives  a friendly  opposition  wagon ; 
or  with  some  other  Sconset  man  down  town,  in 
a casual  sort  of  way,  — and  this  style  of  passage 
costs  a dollar;  but  one  may  hire  a comfortable 
carry-all,  good  horse,  and  driver  for  three  dol- 
lars, and  enjoy  one’s  self, — and  this  was  the 
mode  of  Mysie’s  second  expedition  to  Scon- 
set. Her  kind  and  handsome  hostess,  and  a 
new  friend,  Myra  by  name,  accompanied  her. 
The  day  was  exhilaratingly  fine ; the  moors  be- 
gan to  reveal  themselves ; the  red  lilies  bloomed 
on  every  side,  and  some  pretty  but  disappoint- 
ing red  berries  called  meal-berries,  and  filled 
with  a sort  of  cotton-dust,  offered  temptation 
to  several  descents  and  short  foraging  expedi- 
tions. But  seven  miles  is  not  a great  distance; 
and  all  too  soon  the  goal  was  reached,  the  horse 
baited,  the  dinner  eaten,  the  beach  visited ; and 
Mysie,  standing  forlornly  at  the  gate,  saw  her 
pleasant  companions  drive  away,  leaving  her  as 
lonely  as  she  ever  was  in  her  life. 

Who  is  it  that  says  it  is  impossible  to  enjoy 
solitude  without  one  companion  to  whom  we 
may  confide,  “ How  sweet  is  solitude”?  It  must 


SCONSE  T IN  SUMMER.  1 69 

have  been  Solomon.  Now  Mysie  had  no  com- 
panion, and  the  rest  “ va  sans  dire  .”  She  was 
awfully,  horribly  lonely,  and  in  the  morose  con- 
dition of  mind  induced  by  a lonely  fit  of  the 
blues.  Had  this  week  been  all  she  knew  of 
Sconset,  she  would  have  preserved  a discreet 
silence  about  the  place,  preferring  to  argue 
herself  unknown  to  confessing  her  ignorance 
of  its  charm.  Later  on  she  did  come  to  know 
it,  as  shall  be  told ; but  during  this  week  in  Au- 
gust she  altogether  failed  to  discover  it,  or  to 
find  any  way  of  employing  herself.  She  did  not 
know  how  to  do  ric-rac  or  tatting,  and  so  could 
not  join  the  circle  of  ladies  who,  with  doors  and 
windows  close-shut,  because  of  the  furious  wind, 
sat  in  the  penitential  parlor  all  the  morning, 
content  and  cheerful  in  a manner  honorable  to 
human  nature,  but  incomprehensible  to  Mysie’s 
nature.  It  was  impossible  to  walk  comfortably 
on  account  of  the  furious  wind,  the  drifting  sand, 
the  glare  of  the  sun,  and  the  absence  of  paths ; 
there  was  nowhere  to  drive  except  back  to  town, 
or  to  make  an  all-day  excursion  to  Wauwinet; 
the  amusement  of  watching  the  bathers  had  its 
limit,  and  to  join  them  was  a method  of  enjoy- 
ment not  appealing  to  Mysie’s  sense  of  fitness-. 


170 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


She  looked  for  the  Sconset  people,  hoping  to 
improve  her  mind  by  maritime,  cetaceous,  and 
piscatory  conversation;  but  the  Sconset  peo- 
ple, as  has  been  said,  abandon  their  hamlet  to 
the  summer  boarders  as  absolutely  as  the  Aca- 
dians  abandoned  Acadia  to  the  English,  so  that 
the  home-sick  South  Boston  Irishman  was  the 
nearest  approach  to  an  Ancient  Mariner  Mysie 
at  this  time  discovered. 

Still,  to  do  a dismal  memory  full  justice,  there 
was  one  hour  of  enjoyment  in  that  week  worth 
the  six  days,  twenty-three  hours  surrounding  it, 
as  the  pewter-hued  silver  setting  encased  our 
grandmother’s  diamonds.  Sconset,  as  has  been 
stated,  lies  along  the  edge  of  a bluff  ascending 
in  height  from  thirty-three  feet  at  the  village  to 
eighty-five  at  Sankaty  Head,  where  stands  a 
pharos  known  as  Sankaty  Light,  — naturally  an 
object  of  interest  where  objects  of  interest  are 
few  and  simple.  There  are  two  modes  of  com- 
munication between  village  and  light-house,  — 
one  a grass-road  faintly  defined  across  the  sheep 
pastures  and  uninclosed  moor-land,  practicable 
for  carriages  if  the  driver  does  not  mind  taking 
down  and  putting  up  five  sets  of  bars,  or  for 
foot  passengers  who  can  either  climb  or  creep 


SC  ONSET  IN  SUMMER. 


171 


through  said  bars,  and  do  not  mind  scorching 
sun  and  tornadoes  of  wind  by  day,  getting  lost 
by  night,  and  torn  shoes  and  fringed  skirts  in 
any  case ; the  other  path  lies  along  the  edge 
of  the  bluff,  so  close  indeed  that  in  many  places 
it  seems  to  overhang  the  beach,  and  occasion- 
ally is  so  crumbled  away  that  one  must  cling  to 
the  fence  on  the  landward  side,  or  even  sidle 
along  upon  its  lowest  rail.  The  atom  of  risk 
thus  incurred  has  its  fascination  of  course,  and 
is  perhaps  the  best  thing  at  Sconset  during  the 
Vandal  invasion;  but  as 


coast  line,  it  makes  a walk  of  something  over 
two  miles,  and,  including  the  fence-gymnastics, 
a rather  fatiguing  one,  especially  with  sun  and 
wind  as  adversaries,  while  after  dark  it  is  decid- 
edly unsafe.  One  evening  after  tea,  however, 
Mysie,  driven  to  desperation  by  ric-rac  and 
mouldy  hay  inside  the  house  and  deadly  dul- 
ness  and  soft  sand  outside,  resolved  at  least  to 
earn  a good  night’s  rest  by  the  five-mile  excur- 
sion to  the  light-house  and  back.  In  the  vil- 
lage, all  South  Boston  sat  on  the  benches  bor- 
dering the  bluff,  or  disported  itself  on  the  sands 
below;  but  this  was  soon  left  behind,  and  pass- 


lows  all  the  headlands 


172 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


ing  through  the  grounds  of  a gentleman  who 
with  a fine  sense  of  justice  has  provided  gates 
and  a shell-walk  for  the  public,  as  compensation 
for  claiming  a section  of  the  bluffs  as  his  own, 
Mysie  entered  upon  the  grand  domain  of  Nature 
and  felt  herself  elevated  into  that  large  and  calm 
atmosphere  wherein  the  petty  annoyances  and 
discontents  of  life  are  swept  out  of  sight  like 
mosquitoes  before  a north  wind.  The  sun  had 
set,  and  the  glory  of  the  west  was  reflected  in 
the  east  in  sympathetic  radiance,  while  far  out 
upon  the  empty  ocean  the  fog  came  creeping  in, 
— a dark  dweller  upon  the  threshold ; the  sigh 
of  Nature,  “ In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.” 
But  the  fog  was  yet  far  away,  and  east  and  west 
glittered  and  glowed  with  rose  and  gold,  and  the 
salt  air  came  sweet  and  strong  to  quicken  the 
pulse  and  give  vigor  to  brain  and  muscle ; and 
up  against  the  blue  of  heaven  rose  the  white 
shaft  of  the  light-house,  its  newly-kindled  light 
already  contending  with  the  dying  glory  of  the 
day,  — and  Mysie,  well  content,  sat  down  in  a 
fence-corner  and  gave  herself  over  to  forgetful- 
ness of  moral  mosquitoes.  Time  was  made  for 
slaves,  and  she  felt  herself  suddenly  free;  and 
with  the  intemperance  of  sudden  enfranchise- 


SC  ONSET  IN  SUMMER . 


173 


ment  abused  her  freedom,  so  that,  when  she  re- 
sumed her  journey,  both  east  and  west  were 
grown  dim  and  wan,  and  the  face  of  sea  and 
land  showed  beneath  the  first  film  of  fog  like 
the  still  face  of  the  dead  beneath  the  reverent 
veil.  The  path  about  to  swerve  inland  toward 
the  light-house  indulged  in  one  last  freak  re- 
sulting in  a bad  bit,  across  which  one  must 
scramble  by  aid  of  the  fence,  itself  extremely 
shaky;  and  so  it  fell  out  that  when  at  last  My- 
sie,  climbing  the  little  hill,  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  light-house,  night  had  fallen  thick  and  close, 
the  cliff  path  was  manifestly  unsafe,  and  she 
paused  only  long  enough  to  inquire  meekly  of 
the  custodian  the  shortest  and  best  way  to  the 
village  across  the  moor.  His  answer  was  not 
encouraging,  being  of  this  wise : — 

“Well,  there  isn’t  much  of  any  way  to  call 
a road,  especially  as  dark  as  ’t  is  now ; but  you 
see  this  sandy  track  cut  up  by  the  wheels?  Well, 
follow  that  along,  bearing  to  the  left  where  it  is 
kind  of  confused,  and  about  half  a mile  or  so 
from  here  you  ’ll  see  a little  heap  of  stones  at 
your  left,  and  then  you  keep  that  path ; and  if 
you  can’t  see  no  path,  why,  — unless  the  fog 
comes  on  thicker  than  I guess  it  will, — you’ll 


174 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


see  the  lights  at  Sconset,  and  you  'll  kind  o’  bear 
away  for  them.” 

Mysie  looked  across  the  misty  waste  toward 
which  he  pointed,  and  felt  like  Christopher  Co- 
lumbus. The  world  was  round,  and  by  voyaging 
long  enough  in  one  direction  she  must  arrive 
somewhere. 

“ There  are  no  bogs  or  ditches  for  one  to  fall 
into,  are  there?”  inquired  she,  rising  from  the 
stone  whereon  she  had  briefly  rested. 

“ Oh,  no  ! not  unless  you  get  way  out  of  your 
course  over  there  to  the  right.  There  ’s  some 
mash-land  over  there  by  Saul’s  Hills,  Gibbs’s 
Swamp,  and  the  like;  but  you  just  bear  to  the 
left  and  make  for  Sconset  lights,  and  you  ’ll 
fetch.” 

With  these  instructions  Mysie  set  forth,  and 
presently  found  herself,  so  far  as  outward  sense 
could  demonstrate,  alone  in  the  world.  The 
sandy  track  had  ceased  to  glimmer  beneath  her 
feet,  the  village  lights  were  not  yet  visible ; to 
the  left  the  rise  of  the  bluff  cut  off  the  view  of 
the  sea,  to  the  right  lay  a dim  and  shadowy  land 
across  which  slowly  drifted  strange  shapes  of 
fog,  settling,  lifting,  creeping,  like  the  phantom- 
army  encamped  “ beside  the  Moldau’s  rushing 


SCO  ASET  IN  SUMMER . 


i7S 


stream ; ” the  moon,  wan  as  a watcher’s  face, 
struggled  against  the  fog,  now  peering  through 
its  rifts,  now  swallowed  in  its  depths.  Only  one 
thing  remained  to  tell  of  man ; the  beacon-light 
upon  the  rising  land  behind  shone  steadily  yet 
strangely  through  the  fog,  which  vainly  tried  to 
smother  it,  each  ray  making  as  it  were  a sepa- 
rate effort,  and  cutting  its  separate  way  through 
the  enemy,  — so  that  the  effect  was  of  a great 
central  star  surrounded  by  an  aureole,  the  con- 
ventional star  old  painters  loved  to  show  as 
guiding  the  wise  men.  But  as  Mysie,  sitting 
there  all  alone  with  the  moor  and  the  fog  and 
the  night,  watched  this  great  star,  the  drifting 
mist  seemed  now  to  carry  it  away  out  over  the 
sea,  whose  melancholy  monotone  suited  the 
picture  well,  now  to  bring  it  so  near  that  one 
could  hardly  doubt  it  was  advancing, — the  tall 
majestic  figure  with  a glory  around  its  head, 
like  One  who  walked  upon  the  sea  of  Galilee. 
The  intense  solemnity  of  the  scene  was  some- 
thing indescribable ; the  breadth  of  all  the 
effects,  the  grandeur  of  the  unseen  ocean,  the 
melancholy  of  the  moors,  the  sky  which  ming- 
ling with  the  fog  seemed  to  have  come  within 
one’s  reach,  the  wan  moon,  and  the  great  lonely 


176 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


star  made  up  a world  wherein  one  forgot  all 
smaller  things  and  felt  one’s  self  the  smallest 
of  all  things.  One  never  stays  long  in  such  an 
atmosphere,  however,  and  the  transition  is  often 
very  harsh.  This  time  it  was  very  gentle ; the 
tinkle  of  a bell  muffled  in  wool,  the  crop,  crop,  of 
many  little  mouths,  a soft  stir  among  the  herb- 
age, and  the  apparition  of  vague  shapes  on 
every  side,  neither  avoiding  nor  attacking  the 
human  creature  seated  there  beside  the  road, 
and  so  proving  themselves  brought  into  the 
covenant  of  mutual  benefit  between  beast  and 
man,  wherein  the  poor  creatures  learn  to  love 
and  trust  him  who  feeds  them,  that  he  may  ulti- 
mately eat  them  ! — a flock  of  sheep  broken  loose 
from  their  pasture  and  happy  in  forbidden  grass, 
albeit  not  so  rich  as  their  own,  but  flavored  with 
the  sense  of  freedom. 

The  dream  was  broken,  and  Mysie  arose  from 
the  little  heap  of  stones  which  she  concluded 
must  be  the  cairn  marking  the  departure  of  the 
foot-path  from  the  wheel-track.  No  path  at  all 
was  visible  in  the  dim  light,  — but  one  has  to  be- 
lieve in  so  many  things  that  are  not  visible  and 
yet  necessary ; and  so  passing  to  the  left  of  the 
clump  of  furze  beside  the  cairn,  Mysie  walked 


SC  ONSET  IN  SUMMER. 


1 77 


on,  and  by  and  by  perceived  that  she  was 
following,  not  so  much  a path,  as  the  reminis- 
cence of  other  feet  over  the  grass,  until  the  lights 
of  Sconset  shone  cheerily  in  the  distance,  and 
the  first  set  of  bars  propounded  the  question  of 
climb  or  crawl  to  her  anxious  mind. 

After  this  the  rest  of  the  way  was  pleasant 
and  easy,  until  about  nine  o’clock  Mysie  walked 
into  the  parlor  where  ladies  sitting  about  a ker- 
osene lamp  did  ric-rac,  gaped,  and  looked  at 
their  watches.  One  pleasantly  inquired  if  she 
had  been  walking,  and  on  hearing  whither, 
looked  mildly  disapproving,  and  said  it  was 
too  far,  and  she  had  already  seen  the  light- 
house several  times.  Then  everybody  went  to 
bed,  and  that  day’s  joy  was  past. 

The  next  morning  a friend  arrived.  We  have 
all  smiled  at  the  cynic  who,  when  his  servant 
said  he  would  like  to  step  out  and  see  a friend, 
exclaimed,  “ A friend?  Fetch  my  hat;  I would 
like  to  see  him,  too.”  But  probably  nobody  ex- 
cept Robinson  Crusoe  was  ever  moiys  delighted 
in  seeing  a friend  than  Mysie,  when,  from  Levi 
Coffin’s  box-wagon  there  gayly  descended,  with 
red  lilies  in  her  hand,  a young  lady  as  igno- 
rant as  herself  of  ric-rac  indeed,  but,  like  her- 


12 


178 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


self,  finding  ignorance  such  bliss  that  they  cared 
not  to  be  wise,  and  supplied  the  void  in  their 
lives  with  talk  of  other  things.  The  reaction 
from  total  apathy  was  of  course  excessive  and 
dangerous,  culminating  in  a walk  to  Tom  Nev- 
er’s Head,  — the  western  headland  balancing 
Sankaty  on  the  east;  Sconset  being  the  pivot  in 
the  middle.  Like  most  crusades,  the  motif  of 
this  was  admirable,  the  detail  exhausting,  the 
culmination  disastrous.  The  sun  blandly  re- 
marking to  Mysie,  “ Do  you  suppose,  because 
you  are  in  a better  humor,  you  can  defy  me?  ” 
just  pushed  away  the  morning  fog  and  shone . 
The  wind  held  its  breath  to  see  the  fun;  the 
path  lying  along  Low  Beach  might  as  well  have 
lain  across  that  furnace  heated  “ even  seven  times 
hotter  than  before ; ” the  beach-grass,  long  and 
tangled,  swarmed  with  all  things  of  a crawly, 
skippy,  venomous  nature ; and  Tom  Never’s 
Head,  two  miles  away,  presented  itself  as  a glary, 
unshaded  eminence  hard  to  climb,  and  present- 
ing upon  its  apex  the  anomaly  of  a life-saving 
station,  before  reaching  which  one  would  be  sure 
to  die.  At  its  foot  lay  a wreck,  through  whose 
ancient  ribs  the  waters  broke  derisively,  and  at  its 
back  lay  a swamp,  — Tom  - Never’s  Swamp, — 


SC  ONSET  IN  SUMMER. 


1/9 


where  the  owls  and  Tom  Never’s  ghost  sensi- 
bly shelter  themselves  during  the  noonday.  Mr. 
Northrup,  in  his  book  about  Sconset,  gives  a 
very  different  picture  of  Tom  Never’s  Head  ; and 
it  is  just  as  true  as  this  one,  the  difference  being 
the  seamy  side  and  the  congregation  side  of  the 
tapestry.  It  is  nice  to  see  things  all  round. 

“ Myra,”  exclaimed  Mysie,  “ suppose  we  con- 
clude we  have  done  enough  for  glory — too  much 
for  comfort  — and  turn  back!”  Myra,  being 
an  eminently  quiet  and  well-mannered  young 
lady,  was  beginning  a highly  proper  reply,  when 
suddenly  the  touch  of  nature  common  to  femi- 
ninity forced  an  unconsidered  scream  from  her 
lips,  and  pointing  at  Mysie’s  skirts,  she  gasped, 
“ Ticks ! ” 

Undoubtedly  that  impromptu  embroidery, 
looking  as  if  it  were  done  in  brown  beads,  but 
with  the  novel,  feature  in  embroidery  of  a con- 
stantly changing  pattern,  was  ticks;  and  ticks 
being  of  that  sympathetic  and  affectionate  nature 
that  they  never  are  satisfied  to  leave  any  bar- 
rier between  themselves  and  their  friends,  the 
stupendous  problem  arose,  What  proportion 
does  the  seen  bear  to  the  unseen  in  the  works 
of  Nature? 


i8o 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


Hence  Myra’s  shriek,  hinc  — but  no ; the 
daily  pc^ss  has  used  up  hinc  illce  lachrymce , 
and  has  given  us  nothing  to  fill  the  place  of  the 
tears  but  a gape.  Of  course,  a vigorous  defence 
against  the  foe  was  at  once  instituted ; but  it 
was  like  that  of  Gulliver  against  the  Lilliputians, 
— numbers  and  devotion  to  a purpose,  far  more 
than  outmatching  size  and  self-conceit.  Des- 
perate and  rapid  flight  remained  the  only  hope, 
and  it  was  adopted.  Two  or  three  hours  later 
the  comrades,  each  emerging  from  her  scene  of 
solitary  conflict,  met  in  the  wind-swept  hall,  and 
looked  in  each  other’s  wan  and  worn  faces. 

“ I counted  mine  as  I drowned  them,”  said 
Myra,  “ and  there  were  a hundred  and  thir- 
teen.” 

“ I measured  mine  instead  of  counting,”  re- 
plied Mysie,  not  to  be  outdone.  “ How  much 
do  you  fancy  a wash-basin  holds?.  Mine  is  full.” 

A few  hours  later  a beach-wagon  drove  up, 
and  two  cool,  well-dressed,  and  provokingly 
comfortable-looking  damsels  alighted,  with  the 
remark,  — 

“ Of  course,  you  are  having  a lovely  time 
here,  but  we  want  to  take  you  back  to  town 
with  us.” 


SC  ONSET  IN  SUMMER. 


1 8 1 


“ Had  we  better  go,  Myra?”  inquired  Mysie; 
“or  do  you  want  to  stay  for  a few  more  excur- 
sions to  Tom  Never’s,  by  way  of  Low  Beach  ?” 
So,  as  the  sun,  relenting  of  his  morning  cru- 
elty, drew  the  glory  of  sunset  clouds  about  his 
face,  and  sank  toward  the  western  sea,  the 
beach-wagon  rolled  townward,  carrying  four 
light  hearts,  four  merry  faces,  four  restless 
tongues;  and  the  owls,  just  preparing  for  a 
moonlight  flitting  across  the  moor,  were  driven 
back  to  their  swamps  by  peals  of  laughter  and 
ringing  choruses ; and  Betty  and  Myra  must  stop 
for  every  red  lily,  or  wild  rose,  or  swamp  azalea 
to  be  espied  with  a telescope ; and  Hattie  nearly 
lost  the  use  of  her  arms  for  life,  in  restraining 
the  iron-mouthed  beast  who  drew  the  wagon 
and  evidently  considered  himself  the  only  sen- 
sible person  of  the  party;  and  Mysie,  laugh- 
ing, singing,  jesting,  and  happy  as  a child  just 
out  of  school,  had  yet  a quiet  glance  of  recog- 
nition for  the  purpling  moors  and  the  dim  hol- 
lows where  already  the  fog  lay  ever  so  lightly, 
while  in  her  heart  was  the  unspoken  greeting 
which  one  gives  to  a dear,  dear  friend,  with 
whom  by  and  by  we  shall  speak  in  fullest  con- 
fidence. As  the  carriage  rolled  through  New- 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


182 


town  gate,  where  once  was  a barrier  to  keep  the 
sheep  then  grazing  all  the  moors  from  coming 
into  town,  and  where  also  the  one  hanging  ef- 
fected in  Nantucket  took  place,  the  moon,  clear- 
ing the  horizon  clouds,  shed  down  her  glory 
upon  the  old  town  and  the  waters  clasping  her 
around  like  a faithful  spouse,  who  sees  always 
the  fair  object  of  his  early  love  in  her  whom 
the  careless  world  calls  old  and  bygone.  A lit- 
tle silence  fell  upon  the.  merry  party  as  Hattie 
halted  the  horse  and  left  time  for  the  picture 
to  impress  itself,  and  then  the  uneven  cobble- 
stones began,  and  the  memorable  drive  was 
over. 


t# 

jfr 

SCRAP  XII. 


THE  COFFINS. 


ND  now  arrived  the  three  days  of  the 
Coffin  reunion,  bringing  an  influx  of 
two  or  three  hundred  Coffins,  — some 
nascitur , some  fit , but  one  and  all  firmly  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  Tristram  Coffin, 
and  Dionis  his  wife,  invented  Nantucket  a 
couple  of  centuries  ago,  and  that  the  previ- 
ous Indians,  the  contemporary  Macys,  Folgers, 
Starbucks,  Mayhews,  etc.,  and  the  subsequent 
“ coofs,”  “ strangers,”  or  “ off-islanders,”  are 
alike  accidental  accretions.  To  this  theory  the 
Indians  oppose  only  the  pathetic  silence  of  ex- 
termination, the  coofs  accept  it  carelessly,  or  set 
it  on  the  shelf  with  their  other  Nantucket  curi- 
osities, all  pleasantly  dubious  of  origin ; but  the 
contemporaries,  as  represented  by  their  descend- 
ants, meet  it  with  a vast  and  outspoken  scorn. 

“ Tristram  Coffin  ! ” exclaimed  one  individual 
in  a symposium  at  which  Mysie  assisted ; “ why, 


I 84  NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 

what  was  he  but  an  old  fisherman,  with  his 
trousers  rolled  above  his  knees,  digging  clams 
or  hauling  up  his  dory  like  anybody  else  in 
those  days ; while  Dionis,  whom  they  make  such 
a fuss  about,  sold  home-made  beer  in  Salisbury, 
Mass.,  and  is  set  down  in  the  Town  Records 
there  as  fined  for  selling  bad  beer.  No,  sir ! it 
was  Thomas  Macy  and  Edward  Starbuck  who 
settled  Nantucket,  and  Tristram  Coffin  only 
came  along  in  their  wake.” 

“ Oh,  if  it  comes  to  a question  of  the  prin- 
cipal family  on  Nantucket,”  retorted  another, 
“ nobody  can  doubt  the  claim  of  the  Folgers. 
Why,  when  they  wanted  to  survey  their  land 
about  three  years  after  your  Coffins  and  Macys 
settled  here,  they  had  to  send  over  to  the  Vine- 
yard and  coax  Peter  Folger  to  come  and  do 
it  for  them.  There  wasn’t  a manyack  among 
them  able  to  do  it;  why,  there  wasn’t  one  of 
them  could  read  or  write,  even ! ” 

But  at  this  statement  a groan,  a growl,  a 
scream  of  derision  arose  from  every  Coffin  and 
Macy  within  hearing,  with  a hubbub  of  voices 
deep  or  shrill,  from  among  which  presently 
issued  the  calm  tones  of  a serene  old  Friend  of 
Swain  descent. 


THE  COFFINS . 1 85 

“ That  was  an  unadvised  statement,  made  by 
a very  good  but  misguided  man,”  said  he ; u he 
even  printed  it  upon  the  map  he  put  forth  ten 
years  ago.  But  it  is  clear  that  since  the 
twenty  Purchasers  and  Associates  who  bought 
the  island  of  Thomas  Mayhew  signed  their 
names  to  their  deed  of  association,  they  were 
able  to  write ; and  as  careful  men  do  not  sign 
what  they  cannot  certify,  it  is  likely  they  could 
read.” 

“ And  as  for  the  surveying,  I believe  Folger 
was  as  much  a miller  and  builder  as  he  was  a 
surveyor,”  interposed  a feminine  Coffin ; “ and 
I don’t  see  that  grinding  corn  is  any  more 
literary  than  raising  it.  And  I should  like  to 
know  how  many  of  us  in  this  room  know 
how  to  do  surveying : and  yet  I suppose 
we  don’t  call  ourselves  very  illiterate,  do 
we?  ” 

The  last  argument  was  “ a clincher,”  and  the 
meeting  broke  up  harmoniously,  well  content 
with  having  arrived  at  no  conclusion  whatever. 
But  the  discussion  in  varied  forms  and  among 
various  groups  of  people  was  renewed  again  and 
again,  with  so  many  arguments  upon  the  Coffin 
side  that  one  was  altogether  convinced  of  the 


1 86  NANTUCKE  T SCRAPS . 

justice  of  their  claims,  until  a committee  of  Fol- 
gers,  Gardners,  Husseys,  and  the  rest  flatly  con- 
tradicted all  the  Coffin  statements,  and  met  their 
arguments  with  others  exactly  as  convincing,  so 
that  finally  one  remembered,  — was  it  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh,  who  in  his  prison  amused  himself  by 
writing  a history?  It  was  nearly  complete,  when 
a fracas  in  the  prison-yard  attracted  his  atten- 
tion and  drew  him  to  the  window;  the  com- 
batants were  presently  separated  and  brought 
back  into  the  common  room,  when  the  histo- 
rian, anxious  to  discover  the  rights  of  the  quar- 
rel, “ interviewed  ” the  leading  persons  on  each 
side,  but  found  all  the  accounts  so  opposed  to 
each  other,  and  all  differing  so  decidedly  from 
what  he  thought  he  had  seen,  that  returning  to 
his  cell  he  tore  his  manuscript  to  bits,  saying, 
“ Who  writes  history  is  writing  himself  down  a 
liar.”  Meantime  the  world  goes  on,  whether 
Admiral  Sir  Isaac  Coffin — who  was  born  in 
Boston  in  1759,  about  a century  after  Tristram 
and  Dionis  settled  on  Nantucket,  and  who  built 
and  endowed  a school  still  flourishing  in  Nan- 
tucket— was  actually  one  of  the  Tristram-Coffins, 
or,  as  the  Folgers  and  Macys  say,  was  merely  a 
childless  old  man,  who  fancied  leaving  a monu- 


THE  COFFINS. 


i87 


ment  to  himself  among  a people  of  the  same 
name  and  possibly  the  same  descent  as  himself ; 
or  whether  Tristram  dug  clams  in  bare-skin 
buskins,  and  Dionis  sold  bad  beer;  or  whether 
he  resembled  the  be-ruffled,  curled,  silken-doub- 
leted  cavalier  of  Charles  the  Second’s  period, 
whose  picture  was  sold  as  the  portrait  of  Tris- 
tram Coffin,  during  those  days  of  reunion,  — 
still  the  world  goes  on ! 

A great  mitigation  of  party  feeling  in  this 
most  important  question  is  the  fact,  that,  during 
the  two  centuries  of  occupancy,  these  Nantucket 
families  have  married  and  intermarried  in  the 
most  intricate  manner,  until  probably  anyone  in 
any  family  at  the  present  day  might  claim  about 
the  same  connection  as  does  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ewer 
of  St.  Ignatius  Parish,  New  York,  who,  being 
brought  to  book  for  a statement  anent  Peter 
Folger’s  literary  pre-eminence  printed  upon  the 
map  of  Nantucket,  which  he  hasphilanthropically 
surveyed,  drawn,  and  published,  with  descriptive 
notes,  as  a guide  to  his  native  island,  wittily  re- 
plied by  saying  that  he  could  not  be  supposed 
likely  to  disparage  any  Nantucket  blood,  since 
a “ quantitative  and  qualitative  analysis”  of  his 
own  results  as  follows : — 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


188 


Silicate  of  Trott 

2 per  cent. 

Bicarbonate  of  Burwell  .... 

a 

Protoxide  of  Swain  ..... 

• 3 

ii 

Nitrate  of  Worth  . • 

• 3 

u 

Chloride  of  Cartwright  .... 

. ii 

ii 

Sulphate  of  Starbuck  .... 

. ii 

ii 

Hydrated  Sulphuric  Acid  of  Ewer  , 

. 1 1 

ii 

Superphosphate  of  Coffin  . . . 

. 12 

ii 

Hydrated  Deutoxide  of  Gardner  . , 

• i5 

a 

Aurate  of  Folger 

. 29 

a 

Traces  of  Tobey,  Wing,  and  Macy  . 

1 

a 

100 

a 

Perhaps  one  may  guess  the  reverend  chem- 
ist’s private  persuasion,  by  noting  the  propor- 
tion, both  quantitatively  and  qualitatively,  given 
to  Folger. 

Although  the  elements  frowned  most  unkindly 
upon  the  reunion,  it  was  a very  bright  and  in- 
teresting occasion.  Coffins  from  the  cardinal 
extremities  of  these  United  States  and  the  Do- 
minion of  our  dear  sister  Victoria  gathered  with 
much  jubilation,  and  with  a fortunate  determina- 
tion not  to  mind  discomfort ; for  the  accommoda- 
tions of  the  island  being  already  nearly  absorbed 
by  “ coofs  from  the  continent,”  as  strangers  from 
the  mainland  are  occasionally  described  in  vig- 
orous vernacular,  the  Coffins  seemed  likely  to 
be  reduced  to  the  condition  of  snails,  each  sleep- 


THE  COFFINS . 


189 

ing  in  his  own  “ shell  ” before  the  appointed 
season. 

The  long  easterly  storm  usual  in  Nantucket 
during  August  arrived  in  the  same  boat  with 
the  Coffins,  and  affectionately  accompanied 
them  in  all  their  excursions,  patiently  wait- 
ing to  see  the  last  of  them  off  the  island  be- 
fore it  went  itself.  One  work  of  this  unbid- 
den guest  was  to  defeat  a so-called  “ pilgrim- 
age ” of  the  clan  to  the  grave  of  Captain  John 
Gardner,  before  mentioned,  this  being  also,  in 
all  probability,  the  spot  where,  or  whereabout, 
Tristram  and  Dionis  laid  their  weary  bones,  little 
guessing  the  commotion  to  be  made  over  them 
two  hundred  years  later.  It  was  a pretty  idea, 
and  yet, — ideas  belong  to  eras ; and  perhaps 
the  era  of  pedestrian  pilgrimages  over  rough 
roads  to  the  graves  of  one’s  ancestors  is  a little 
bygone,  and  American  men  are  not  much  in 
that  way,  and  American  women  are  n’t  very  good 
walkers,  and  the  grass  about  those  graves  is  full 
of  ticks ; and,  on  the  whole,  it  is  possible  the 
easterly  storm  was  an  angel  in  disguise,  and  then, 
— no  doubt  Captain  John  Gardner  was  a hos- 
pitable man  in  his  day,  but  two  hundred  Coffins 
for  one  grave  is  a good  many ! So  the  disap- 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


190 

pointed  pilgrims  went  to  the  Methodist  church 
instead,  and  had  a few  more  speeches  and  a 
poem  or  two,  and  went  away  next  day  saying 
to  each  other  what  a splendid  occasion  it  had 
been,  and  to  themselves  how  glad  they  were  it 
was  over.  One  would  not  be  cynical ; but  is  it 
not  in  every  one’s  experience  that  the  pleasures 
so  elaborately  prepared  for,  and  so  much  antic- 
ipated in  thought  and  speech,  are  just  a little 
disappointing  when  they  arrive?  You  cannot 
decant  your  champagne  and  hand  it  about  to 
be  admired,  and  sing  songs  to  it,  and  make 
speeches  about  it,  and  then  find  the  embodied 
perfume  of  the  first  flavor.  Choose  the  pleas- 
ures of  hope,  the  pleasures  of  possession,  or  the 
pleasures  of  memory : you  won’t  get  any  two  of 
them  in  perfection. 

A dangerous  point  also  in  family  reunions  of 
this  sort  is,  that  the  common  tie  only  brings 
closer  home  the  inevitable  differences  of  politics, 
religion,  interests,  and  tastes  pervading  a com- 
pany gathered  from  every  portion  of  our  so 
lately  dis-United  States.  The  religious  element, 
for  instance,  among  the  Coffins  was  represented 
by  two  or  three  gentlemen  whose  severely  cleri- 
cal dress  suggested  the  advanced  Anglican ; by 


THE  COFFINS. 


191 

others  of  the  Congregational  body;  by  Unitarian 
ministers,  one  of  them  certainly  a most  culti- 
vated and  delightful  person  socially;  by  Friends, 
any  of  them  expected  to  exhort  if  the  Spirit 
moves ; and  by  a representative  female  preacher. 
A conference  upon  matters  of  faith,  like  that  be- 
tween Francis  de  Sales  and  the  Geneva  minis- 
ters, would  have  been  a noticeable  feature  in  the 
programme  of  exercises,  but  in  the  interests  of 
family  concord  it  was  omitted. 

The  Coffins  gone  away,  and  the  island  a little 
calmed  after  its  astonishment,  Mysie  pursued 
her  studies  of  its  internal  resources,  and  wan- 
dering through  the  moon-lighted  streets  one 
evening,  met  Hattie,  who  briskly  inquired,  — - 
“ Have  you  seen  the  dauphin?  ” 

“ The  prince  imperial,  do  you  mean?” 

“ Dear  me,  no ! The  real  thing,  the  last 
dauphin,  who  should  have  been  or  was  Louis 
XVII.” 

“ Hattie,  what  do  you  mean?  ” 

“ Come  with  me.” 

And,  turning  baek  a few  steps,  she  mounted 
one  of  the  peculiar  stoops  characteristic  of  Nan- 
tucket, and  knocked  with  her  knuckles  upon  a 
door.  A mild  and  gentle  lady  presently  opened 


192 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


it,  and  greeted  Hattie  in  a voice  which,  like 
her  face,  suggested  the  gentle  and  restrained 
bearing  peculiar  to  those  born  or  bred  among 
Friends. 

“ I have  brought  my  friend  to  see  the  dau- 
phin, if  you  will  be  so  very  kind  as  to  present 
us,”  said  Hattie,  with  a sly  glance  at  the  abso- 
lutely mystified  Mysie. 

The  quiet  manner  of  the  lady  did  not  betray 
any  appreciation  of  a jest;  but  pushing  open 
the  door  of  a room  lighted  only  from  the  one 
beyond  it,  she  said,  “ He  is  in  this  parlor.  Will 
you  walk  in?” 

The  friends  walked  in ; and  looking  about  her 
in  the  dim  light,  Mysie  perceived  a child  lying 
in  the  corner  of  a sofa,  the  dark  head  contrast- 
ing with  the  white  dress  and  pillow.  The  lady 
had  gone  into  the  other  room.  “ Why,  here’s 
a baby,  Hattie  ! ” exclaimed  she,  softly.  “ We 
shall  wake  it,  and  then  there  ’ll  be  a scene.” 

“Sa  Majeste  le  roi,  Louis  XVII.  ! ” announced 
Hattie,  in  a tone  of  sepulchral  solemnity,  and 
with  the  gesture  of  a gold-stick-in-waiting  doing 
the  honors  of  a royal  ante-chamber  to  a guest. 

“ What  do  you  mean,  you  exasperating  crea- 
ture ! ” again  demanded  Mysie;  and  just  then 


THE  COFFINS. 


193 


the  hostess  returned,  and,  lighting  the  gas, 
mildly  inquired,  — 

“ Have  you  seen  the  dauphin  ?” 

“ Yes.  I was  just  presenting  my  friend,”  re- 
plied Hattie,  demurely;  and  as  the  lady  raised 
the  figure  and  brought  it  forward,  Mysie  per- 
ceived that  it  was  a life-sized  and  most  life-like 
image  of  a child,  perhaps  a year  old,  the  peculiar 
face  differing  widely  from  the  conventional  model 
of  infantile  beauty,  and  bearing  the  individuality 
which  induces  one  immediately  to  declare,  “Oh, 
this  is  a likeness  of  somebody,  quite  evidently.” 
More  than  this : the  little  face,  with  its  air  of 
dignity  and  hereditary  hauteur,  had  decidedly 
the  Bourbon  ugliness  as  transmitted  to  us  in 
so  many  portraits  of  that  ill-starred  race;  and 
altogether  one  felt  quite  ready  to  accept  with- 
out salt  the  story  that  Captain  Jonathan  Coffin, 
sailing  away  from  Nantucket  about  a hundred 
years  ago,  promised  his  little  daughter  that  he 
would  bring  her  something  different  from  what 
any  of  her  playmates  could  boast,  and,  looking 
about  him  in  France,  found  in  a nunnery  near 
Paris  this  image,  modelled  by  permission  from 
the  head  of  the  little  dauphin,  then  about  a year 
old.  The  good  sisters  warranted  it  a likeness ; 


194 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


and  the  captain,  who  idolized  his.  little  girl,  paid 
something  fabulous  in  price  for  this  unique  toy, 
and  brought  it  home  in  triumph.  The  story  is 
so  straight  and  the  internal  evidence  so  great, 
that  this  relic  of  the  poor  child,  who  with  his 
father  paid  the  debts  of  the  three  previous 
reigns,  is  an  object  of  most  pathetic  interest. 
Several  collectors  of  curios  have  tried  to  buy 
it,  and  most  persons  say,  “ It  ought  to  be  in  a 
museum,  you  know,  — in  some  national  collec- 
tion where,  properly  authenticated,  it  would 
grow  more  and  more  valuable;  ” but  Mysie 
hopes  neither  of  these  classes  of  collectors  will 
have  their  way.  The  dauphin,  lying  carelessly 
in  the  corner  of  a sofa,  with  a sweet  gentle  lady 
to  show  him  as  a favor  to  those  calling  upon 
her,  and  then  to  lay  him  aside  in  the  closet 
or  anywhere,  is  so  much  more  interesting  and 
piquant  than  he  could  be  in  any  wax-work 
show,  private  or  national ; and  it  seems  such  a 
shame  always  to  take  things  out  of  their  own 
settings  and  transplant  them  into  unassimilated 
ones,  merely  because  one  wants  everything. 
The  poor  obelisk  in  Central  Park,  for  instance ! 
How  insulted  Cleopatra  and  Cheops  must  feel, 
even  in  Hades  ! 


THE  COFFINS. 


195 


Next  door  to  the  dauphin’s  house  is  another, 
the  home  of  a still  more  marvellous  thing,  and 
quite  as  historically  interesting  in  its  way.  It  is 
popularly  called  the  Smuggler’s  Hole,  and  is  in 
a house  owned  and  inhabited  by  two  ladies  upon 
whom  one  would  think  nobody  could  dream  of 
intruding  uninvited;  but  yet  there  have  been 
so  many  exceptions  to  the  rule  that  they  have 
been  obliged  to  learn  to  say  “No”  to  unau- 
thorized applicants,  and  it  is  rather  a delicate 
matter  to  ask  for  admittance.  Hattie,  however, 
arranged  this ; and  one  wet  and  windy  afternoon 
Mysie  went  alone,  and  was  received  by  a lovely 
woman,  with  the  sweet  and  grave  expression 
upon  her  face  of  one  inured  to  long  physical 
suffering.  The  old  panelling  of  the  parlor,  the 
fireplace,  and  some  family  pictures  were  the  first 
objects  of  interest;  and  then  going  into  the 
hall,  the  lady  opened  a closet  extending  under 
the  great  square  staircase,  and  showed  how  in 
the  back  of  it  a door,  once  probably  masked, 
but  now  simply  latched,  opened  into  a queer, 
roomy  crypt,  built  into  the  great  square  chim- 
ney in  such  a fashion  that  no  casual  observation 
of  the  various  apartments  of  the  house  would 
suggest  any  space  unaccounted  for.  This  closet 


196 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


had  once  an  opening  into  the  parlor  by  a sliding 
panel ; and  the  most  eagerly  sought  refugee 
would  have  been  as  safe  here  as  in  any  Priest’s 
Chamber  of  a mediaeval  castle.  Indeed,  the 
present  owners  of  the  house  did  not  discover 
their  treasure  for  many  years  after  their  first 
occupancy,  and  then  quite  by  accident. 

“ The  ceiling  of  this  closet  is  the  floor  of  the 
place  you  have  come  to  see,”  said  the  sweet 
voice  of  the  guide,  glancing  up  at  the  dark 
boarding  overhead. 

“ This  is  not  the  Smuggler’s  Hole,  then?” 
asked  Mysie,  with  a smile. 

“ No,  that  is  still  to  explore ; ” and  leading  the 
way  up  the  roomy  staircase,  the  lady  pointed  to 
a window  high  in  the  wall  over  the  middle  land- 
ing, saying,  — 

“ That  is  the  window  of  the  place ; and  they 
say  the  goods  hidden  there  were  passed  through 
the  window  and  out  at  this  window  over  the  front 
door,  and  so  down  into  a cart,  by  a rope  and 
blocks.  But  nobody  knows  now;  for  if  such 
things  were  done,  they  were  naturally  kept  se- 
cret, and  those  who  died  left  no  record  of  their 
proceedings.” 

“ Then  it  is  not  known  just  who  the  smug- 


TIIE  COFFINS . 


197 


glers  were?  It  was,  perhaps,  before  your  family 
owned  the  house?”  suggested  Mysie,  tenta- 
tively. The  air  of  quiet  reserve  so  character- 
istic of  Nantucket  gentlefolk  deepened  a little, 
but  very  courteously  came  the  reply,  — 

“ Nothing  is  known  positively  about  the  smug- 
glers, or  even  if  there  were  any  smugglers.  One 
of  our  visitors  suggested  that  the  closets  were 
made  for  storing  and  ripening  wine  ; he  said 
the  warmth  of  the  chimney  was  just  what  was 
needed.” 

She  smiled  a little  in  suggesting  this  fancy, 
and  then  quietly  added,  — 

“ It  all  happened  before  our  family  bought  the 
house,  and  nothing  I suppose  can  ever  be  posi- 
tively proved ; but  you  know  in  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  and  again  in  1812,  Nantucket  was 
very  much  exposed  to  British  depredations,  and 
even  violence,  so  that  it  would  be  very  natural 
for  people  to  contrive  safe  hiding-places  for  their 
property,  or  for  themselves  and  their  friends. 
There  was  a very  handsome  girl  over  at  Tuck- 
ernuck  in  Revolutionary  times,  — one  of  the 
Gardners,  I think,  — and  her  father  hid  her  all 
one  day  under  a heap  of  flax  in  the  garret,  be- 
cause a British  cruiser  was  hovering  about  the 


198 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


island.  If  he  had  had  a smuggler’s  hole  in  his 
house  now,  she  might  have  been  both  safer  and 
more  comfortable.” 

So  speaking,  the  sweet  lady  led  the  way  up  the 
stairs,  and  after  showing  various  quaint  and  pleas- 
ant chambers  filled  with  old  furniture  and  heir- 
loom draperies  on  the  second  floor,  up  again  to  a 
great  old-fashioned  garret,  such  as  one  so  seldom 
sees  now,  and  such  as  will  never  be  seen  by  any 
one  when  the  present  old  houses  are  gone. 

“ Here  is  one  hiding-place,”  said  she,  going  to 
the  corner,  and  pulling  away  some  boards  showed 
a darkness  beyond,  its  extent  or  nature  perfectly 
undistinguishable. 

Mysie,  vainly  peering  in,  asked,  “ What  is  it?  ” 

Her  companion  laughed  as  she  replied,  “ In- 
deed, I don’t  know.  I never  had  courage  or 
curiosity  to  explore  it ; but  they  say  it  extends 
out  over  a porch  at  the  side  of  the  house,  a 
place  no  one  would  ever  dream  of  investigat- 
ing ; and  when  these  boards  are  laid  in  place  no 
one  would  think  of  raising  them  to  look  be- 
neath. But  here  is  the  real  cave,  or,  as  most 
people  call  it,  the  Smuggler’s  Hole,  — perhaps, 
meaning  hold ; for  it  is  a good  deal  like  a ship’s 
hold.” 


THE  COFFINS. 


199 


She  raised  a trap-door  in  the  floor  as  she 
spoke,  and  revealed  a steep  and  narrow  flight 
of  stairs  leading  down  into  what  might  have 
been  Tartarus  itself,  for  darkness  and  gloom. 

“ Do  you  care  to  go  down?  ” asked  the  lady ; 
“ I have  never  been  myself.  It  looks  so  black 
and  is  so  close  and  deep.” 

But  Mysie,  with  a good  deal  of  Thomas  in 
her  composition,  liked  to  see  everything  for  her- 
self; and  leaving  all  impedimenta  on  the  garret 
floor,  clambered  down  the  ladder-like  stairs  un- 
til she  stood  in  a sort  of  well,  with  worm-eaten 
wooden  shelves  at  one  side  and  the  worn  bricks 
of  the  chimney  at  the  other.  Some  crumb- 
ling mummies  of  vegetables  remained  upon  the 
shelves,  showing  that  the  place  with  all  the  rest 
of  its  uses  had  served  the  humble  purpose  of  a 
vegetable  cellar. 

“ Those  things  have  been  there  for  fifty  years 
at  least,”  said  the  hostess,  “ and  have,  I suppose, 
survived  the  hands  that  laid  them  there.  Won't 
you  have  one  for  a relic?” 

v So  Mysie  took  an  onion,  the  one  of  all  earth’s 
fruits  most  connected  with  mummies  and  cata- 
combs and  mysteries ; for  did  not  the  children 
of  Israel,  with  the  milk  and  honey  of  Canaan 


200 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


and  the  grapes  of  Eshcol  in  promise,  turn  back 
to  mourn  for  the  onions  of  Egypt?  Cheops, 
Sesostris,  Cleopatra,  the  sculptor  of  the  Sphinx, 
the  architect  of  Karnak,  they  all  ate  onions  and 
were  not  afraid  ! It  is  only  we  weaklings  of  the 
nineteenth  century  who  timidly  avoid,  or  in 
stealth  and  cowardice  indulge  in,  them.  So  My- 
sie,  who  like  most  persons  especially  admires 
the  virtues  she  does  not  claim,  cherishes  that 
fifty-year  old  onion  from  the  Smuggler’s  Hole, 
but  would  far  rather  die  than  consume  a fresh 
one.  Cleopatra  chose  both  death  and  onions; 
but  red-haired  people  are  generally  courageous. 

So  ended  the  summer  campaign,  — the  visit 
“ in  season”  of  this  off-islander  to  Nantucket; 
and  a few  days  later  she  departed  with  the  im- 
mortal Oliver  Twist’s  craving  for  “ More ! ” 
strong  upon  her. 


PART  II. 


NANTUCKET  OUT  OF  SEASON. 


SCRAP  I. 

THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 

OME  persons  are  fond  of  studying  the 
past  by  reconstructing  from  fragments 
extinct  forms  of  life, — leviathan,  mas- 
todon, ichthyosaurus,  and  the  like;  and  al- 
though these  scientists  fight  freely  enough  upon 
some  points  of  their  conclusions,  they  all  seem 
to  agree  upon  one ; namely,  that  the  earth  must 
have  been  very  differently  prepared  to  meet  the 
needs  of  these  gentlemen  from  what  it  is  in  our 
day,  and  that  ichthyosaurus  and  men  could  not 
have  lived  comfortably  together. 

But  some  other  persons,  leaving  the  dead  past 
to  bury  its  dead,  prefer  to  study  the  future  in 
the  new  forms  of  life  gradually  developing  under 
their  eyes,  and  find  amusement  in  picturing  the 
changes,  physical  and  psychical,  needed  to  adapt 
the  world  as  a habitat  of  the  coming  creature. 

Conspicuous  among  these  developing  forms 


204 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


of  curious  life  is  the  Summer  Boarder.  It  is 
on  the  surface  a “ sport,”  as  the  botanists  say,  of 
the  order  Man ; but  a little  analysis,  even  with- 
out the  aid  of  the  microscope,  develops  differ- 
ences already  wide,  and  rapidly  widening  as  the 
new  species  expands  and  becomes  established. 
Man  and  woman  in  their  ordinary  condition  may 
be  considered  in  various  relations  of  life,  but 
just  now  we  will  confine  ourselves  to  those  mani- 
festations ordinarily  called  gentleman  and  lady. 
True,  these  terms  are  indefinite,  and  cover  a 
sliding  scale  of  qualifications,  ranging  down 
from  those  claimed  by  you,  sir,  and  you,  ma- 
dam, to  those  of  the  “ lady  at  the  back  door, 
mum,  wanting  some  broken  victuals.”  But  or- 
dinarily it  is  conceded  that  the  gentleman  and 
lady  are  human  beings  educated  to  conceal  that 
inherent  selfishness,  greed,  disregard  of  the 
wishes  or  tastes  of  others,  and  general  belief  in 
the  principle, — 

“ Let  him  take  who  has  the  power, 

And  let  him  keep  who  can,”  — 

which  everybody  brings  into  the  world  with  him 
or  her.  This  principle  is  instinctive  and  very 
subtile,  especially  among  the  more  cultivated 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


205 


classes ; and  a great  many  very  pretty  speci- 
mens of  self-delusion  and  delicious  pharisee- 
ism  are  to  be  found  by  the  industrious  student. 
A small  class,  a very  small  class,  of  persons  rec- 
ognizing these  ugly  traits  in  themselves  under 
every  specious  form  of  disguise,  set  themselves 
to  uproot  the  weeds,  and  supply  their  places  by 
certain  sweet  and  lovely  exotics,  such  as  charity, 
meekness,  patience,  and  long-suffering:  but  like 
other  exotics  these  are  of  slow  growth  and  del- 
icate habit,  requiring  constant  protection  and 
nurture,  lest  the  indigenous  weeds  should  spring 
up  and  choke  them  out:  a successful  cultivator 
of  this  sort  is  probably  the  most  perfect  speci- 
men of  gentleman  or  lady  this  earth  can  pro- 
duce. Another  and  far  larger  class  comprises 
the  persons  who  have  been  trained  from  birth 
and  also  inherit  from  progenitors  a code  of  man- 
ners closely  imitating  the  spontaneous  action 
of  the  exotic-growers.  They  give  up  the  best 
seat,  the  best  dish,  the  choice  of  driving  or 
sailing,  the  last  word  in  the  argument,  and  vari- 
ous other  privileges  dear  to  the  creature  homo , 
because  politeness  demands  that  they  should, 
and  they  have  learned  in  perfection  the  well-bred 
gambler’s  axiom,  “ Pay,  and  look  pleasant.”  But 


206 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


this  restraint  being  enforced,  only  endures  for 
the  occasion,  and  is  compensated  by  very  dis- 
agreeable and  bitter  remarks  in  private,  and 
sometimes  by  a sly  ill-turn  done  to  the  party  to 
whom  the  well-mannered  person  has  sacrificed 
itself.  In  ordinary  life  we  thus  have  three  va- 
rieties of  lady  and  gentleman,  — those  who  put 
down  self  and  seek  the  happiness  of  others  be- 
fore their  own,  from  high  Christian  principle; 
those  who  prefer  their  neighbor  to  themselves 
almost  as  assiduously  as  the  first  class,  but  merely 
from  good  breeding ; and  the  third  who  dov  not 
prefer  their  neighbor  to  themselves,  but  delude 
themselves  in  many  subtile  ways  into  fancying 
they  are  quite  right  not  to  do  so. 

The  stratum  of  humanity  not  calling  itself 
lady  and  gentleman  may  be  similarly  divided, 
and  is  a still  more  curious  and  instructive 
study,  holding  in  the  first  class  men  who  will  in 
their  shirt-sleeves  and  cowhide  boots  do  deeds 
of  chivalry  and  show  a delicate  care  of  women 
worthy  of  Bayard,  with  feminines  knowing  not 
grammar  and  eating  with  their  knives,  but  of 
lives  fragrant  with  the  love  of  God  and  de- 
votion to  their  neighbor ; the  second  class  who 
ingenuously  say,  “ I never  would  have  give  up 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


207 


in  the  world,  but  the  folks  was  all  listening,  and 
I knew  they’d  talk  if  I didn’t;  ” and  the  third 
class  who  knock  each  other  down,  or  plant  their 
elbows  in  each  other’s  ribs  to  gain  precedence, 
snatch  the  food  out  of  each  other’s  hands  if  they 
are  hungry,  and  swear  and  vituperate  freely  if 
they  are  offended. 

The  Summer  Boarder,  however,  is  not  ordi- 
narily grown  from  the  latter  classes,  or  if  so,  its 
habitat  has  not  been  discovered  by  the  present 
explorer ; the  new  species  is,  in  fact,  largely  the 
outgrowth  of  the  second  group  of  the  first  class, 
although  borrowing  freely  from  the  first  and 
third.  But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  first  group 
of  the  first  species,  being  as  it  were  the  most  gen- 
uine of  the  three,  suffers  the  least  change  under 
any  circumstances,  and  does  not  develop  as  fully 
as  could  be  wished  into  the  Summer  Boarder 
even  under  the  most  favoring  circumstances,  — 
as,  for  instance,  a crowded  summer  resort  with 
such  paucity  of  accommodation  that  it  is  only  by 
bold  and  persistent  warfare  any  one  may  acquire 
or  keep  a carriage,  a dry  bathing-house,  a good 
seat  at  the  table,  unchipped  cups,  the  attention 
of  servants,  or  the  earliest  services  of  the  laun- 
dress. Our  first  group,  under  these  circum- 


208 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


stances,  show  an  unfortunate  stubbornness  about 
becoming  anything  other  than  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, and  incur  much  the  same  fate  as  their  pro- 
totypes of  the  Terror,  — those  debonair  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who,  disdaining  to  struggle  with 
dames  du  halle  and  their  kindred,  relinquished 
all  their  outward  goods,  but  retained  even  in 
the  Conciergerie  a gay  courage,  an  infinite 
refinement  and  courtesy,  and  a quiet  con- 
tempt of  tribunal,  sentence,  and  guillotine, 
which  gave  their  murderers  a great  deal  more 
annoyance  than  the  stolen  goods  gave  them 
pleasure. 

No,  the  Summer  Boarder  is  not  commonly 
drawn  from  this  class ; and  yet,  alas ! as  Lucifer, 
prince  among  angels,  became  king  of  devils,  a 
star  does  occasionally  fall  to  earth  in  the  shape 
of  meteoric  cinders ; and  one  sometimes  recog- 
nizes in  a Summer  Boarder  a perverted  speci- 
men of  Class  I.,  Group  I. 

The  Summer  Boarder,  then,  whencesoever 
drawn,  is  a new  variety  of  the  order  Man.  He 
or  more  universally  she  lays  aside  at  once,  in 
arriving  upon  the  arena  (for  this  exhibition  is 
actively  competitive),  all  those  restraints  which 
under  ordinary  circumstances  limit  the  exhibi- 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


209 


tion  of  the  natural  instincts  enumerated  a little 
further  back.  The  Summer  Boarder  neither 
feels  nor  feigns  the  slightest  preference  of  his 
neighbor  over  himself ; but  calmly  securing  all 
that  is  desirable  within  his  reach,  casts  a malev- 
olent eye  upon  such  matters  as  the  neighboring 
Summer  Boarder  has  secured  for  himself.  A 
lady  of  this  description,  for  instance,  arriving  at 
a crowded  watering-place  with  a party  of  friends, 
suggested  their  pausing  on  the  way  to  the  hotel 
to  look  at  an  object  of  interest,  while  she  hast- 
ened on  by  herself  and  secured  the  only  desir- 
able room.  She  would  not  have  thought  of 
such  discourtesy  in  her  city  home ; but  she  had 
become  a Summer  Boarder,  and  her  course  was 
quite  natural.  Another  specimen  seats  herself  in 
a chair  at  the  table  d'hote , and  when  the  possessor 
arrives,  looks  blankly  unconscious  of  the  usurpa- 
tion ; and  when  appealed  to  by  the  hostess  de- 
clares her  intention  of  keeping  it.  Another,  and 
this  one  a male  specimen,  takes  the  back  seat 
in  the  carriage,  leaving  a lady  to  seat  herself 
with  her  back  to  the  horses,  and  grow  faint  and 
sick  before  his  eyes.  It  is  characteristic  of  the 
Summer  Boarder,  when  grouped  in  the  parlor 
or  upon  the  veranda  of  a Summer  Boarding- 


210 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


house,  to  stare  stonily  at  a new-comer,  especi- 
ally if  it  be  a lady,  and  alone,  and  on  no  account 
to  offer  any  little  courtesy, — as  a seat,  a fan,  a 
remark  about  the  heat,  or  information  where 
the  landlady  may  be  found.  If  the  stranger 
ventures  a remark  or  an  inquiry,  the  Summer 
Boarders  either  receive  it  in  staring  silence,  or 
look  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  asking,  “ Did 
this  person,  not  having  presented  letters  of  in- 
troduction, speak  to  you,  or  to  me?”  Usually, 
in  the  end,  the  oldest  and  grimmest  specimen  of 
the  group  tenders  a reply,  with  much  the  same 
air  one  might  give  alms  to  a beggar  suspected 
of  small-pox.  If  the  stranger  remains  waiting 
in  the  room  or  on  the  veranda,  the  Summer 
Boarders  draw  together  and  converse  in  very 
low  tones,  occasionally  putting  up  a hand  or  a 
fan  to  screen  their  remarks  from  the  stranger, 
— suggesting  the  suspicion  that  she  is  trying  to 
overhear  the  conversation.  If  a group  of  stran- 
gers enter  the  room,  conversation  is  suspended, 
and  the  entire  clump  of  Summer  Boarders  turn 
and  attentively  watch  and  listen  to  the  new- 
comers, occasionally  turning  expressive  glances 
of  derision,  wonder,  inquiry,  and  the  like  upon 
each  other ; and  before  the  new-comers  are  out 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


21 1 


of  ear-shot,  a buzz  of  comment  and  inquiry 
arises,  quite  reminding  one  of  some  of  the 
African  explorers’  account  of  the  conduct  of 
Ashantees  who  never  before  had  seen  a white 
man. 

A great  deal  more  detail  concerning  this  new 
variety  of  homo  might  be  brought  forward,  but 
Mysie  refrains.  It  is  on  the  whole  a melancholy 
subject,  and  not  to  be  forced  upon  the  attention 
of  those  bright  and  happy  souls  who,  by  the 
care  of  parents  and  blest  conditions  of  life,  have 
grown  up  unconscious  of  the  Summer  Boarder, 
or  only  hearing  of  him  as  they  do  of  Kaffirs, 
Kurdmen,  and  Cannibals.  Dear  innocent  souls, 
remain  in  the  bliss  of  ignorance  while  you  may ! 
But  those  stronger  and  more  restless  souls  who 
cannot  let  the  Sphinx  alone,  and  must  be  forever 
scratching  the  surface  of  the  Russian  to  see  if 
there  is  a Tartar  underneath,  — those  Adams  and 
Eves  who  turn  from  the  innocent  bread-fruit  of 
Paradise  and  demand  the  apples  of  the  Tree  of 
Knowledge,  — those  who  wish  to  dissect,  micro- 
size, and  classify  the  Summer  Boarder,  will  find 
an  excellent  field  of  observation  and  some  splen- 
didly developed  specimens  at  Nantucket  during 
the  season;  that  is,  during  July,  August,  and 


212 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


part  of  September.  The  growth  is  abundant, 
the  characteristics  strongly  marked,  the  condi- 
tions unusually  favorable;  for  not  more  than 
half  the  persons  thronging  the  island  during  the 
last  two  years  could  be  comfortably  accommo- 
dated, and  there  are  few  places  where  good  hu- 
mor, courtesy,  and  a contented  spirit,  or  their 
reverse,  find  more  opportunity  to  flourish. 
Come,  then,  and  study  your  kind,  O optimist ! 
but  beware  of  becoming  what  you  study ! 

The  Summer  Boarder,  and  the  innumerable 
army  in  which  he  has  descended  upon  Nan- 
tucket, is  still  an  object  of  curiosity  and  doubt 
to  the  calm  and  eminently  conservative  spirit 
of  Nantucket.  That  he  is  profitable,  there  is 
no  doubt;  and  Nantucket  gently  makes  him  as 
profitable  as  possible,  by  ransacking  garret  and 
cellar  and  the  top-shelf  of  the  pantry  for  all 
the  broken-legged  chairs,  cracked-top  tables, 
earthen  willow-ware,  such  as  our  grandmothers 
used  in  their  kitchens,  and  pressed  glass  in  va- 
rious shapes,  — all  which  articles  are  greedily 
bought  at  ludicrous  prices  by  such  summer 
boarders  as  presumably  possess  no  family  an- 
tiquities, and  have  not . carried  their  Keramic 
studies  very  far.  Nantucket  is  quite  right  and 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


213 


perfectly  honest,  for  each  purchaser  has  eyes, 
hands,  and  should  have  judgment  of  his  own.  If 
he  has  not,  Nantucket  has  studied  the  art  of 
sheep-shearing  for  many  years,  and  does  it  very 
skilfully  and  pleasantly. 

But  Nantucket,  like  many  other  gentle  and 
silent  entities,  is  very  shrewd ; and  although 
confessing  freely  that  the  Summer  Boarder  is 
profitable,  she  perceives  and  is  keenly  annoyed 
by  such  of  his  faults  as  touch  herself, — as,  for  in- 
stance, his  conviction  that  money  buys  every- 
thing, even  the  Dauphin,  and  heir-loom  silver; 
his  intrusiveness,  his  noisiness  and  late  hours, 
his  general  air  of  taking  possession  in  the  name 
of  “ big  I ” of  what  may  or  may  not  belong  of 
right  to  “ little  u ; ” his  ignorance  of  the  island 
code  of  manners  and  speech,  of  the  respective 
claims  of  island  families  and  names,  of  traditions, 
of  genealogy,  of  maritime  matters,  and  of  a thou- 
sand “ other  things  which  a Christian  ought  to 
know  and  believe  to  his  soul’s  health.”  The 
first  flight  — the  heralds  of  the  army  of  summer 
boarders  — were  received  a few  years  ago  by 
Nantucket  with  courteous  hospitality,  and  made 
welcome  in  homes  as  refined  and  conservative 
as  those  of  Old  Virginia,  or  Eastern  Massachu- 


214 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


setts  generally.  But  the  Summer  Boarder  him- 
self soon  changed  all  that;  and  to-day  Nantucket 
is  hard  to  find,  and  harder  to  come  at  when 
found.  She  has  closed  her  doors  about  her,  and 
either  remains  very  quiet,  or  entertains  her  own 
relatives  and  friends  in  a rigid  exclusiveness 
extremely  nice  to  see.  A common  form  of 
salutation  is,  — 

“ I am  so  glad  to  see  you  ! I never  should 
have  known  you  were  here  if  you  had  not 
called ! There  are  so  many  strangers  on  the 
island  that  I keep  very  much  at  home,  and 
depend  upon  my  friends  to  come  and  see  me 
without  formality.,, 

All  this  knowledge  of  the  Summer  Boarder, 
— sad  and  heavy  as  most  knowledge  of  human- 
ity is,  upon  one  side  at  least,  — Mysie  found 
written  upon  her  mental  tablets,  as  in  the  first 
days  of  September  she  sat  upon  Jethro  Coffin’s 
grave  in  the  Old  North  Burying-ground,  and 
took  stock  of  the  summer’s  gains.  So  sitting, 
she  became  oppressed  with  a crushing  sense 
of  ignorance  as  to  Nantucket  and  Nantucket 
people. 

“ I have  been  a Summer  Boarder,  and  they 
have  n’t  let  me  know  them,”  said  she,  turning  to 


THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 


215 


Jethro's  headstone,  which  only  replied,  “ All  men 
must  die,  and  so  did  I.” 

“ Yes;  but  before  / die  I will  see  Nantucket, 
and  I will  know  Nantucket  people,"  retorted  My- 
sie ; and  with  that  resolve  in  mind  went  home 
next  day  to  Boston, 


SCRAP  II. 

REAL  NANTUCKET. 

T was  early  in  November  that  Mysie 
carried  her  scheme  of  seeing  Nan- 
tucket “ out  of  season,”  Nantucket  pur 
et  simple,  into  execution.  The  contrast  to  “in 
season”  began  in  finding  somewhere  to  stay ; for 
the  very  Nantucketers  who  had  most  patiently 
entertained  the  Summer  Boarder  during  his  ap- 
pointed period  were  most  resolute  in  having 
nothing  to  do  with  him  when  that  period  was 
over.  However,  the  same  friendly  home  which 
had  sheltered  Mysie  as  a pure  matter  of  business 
during  the  summer,  at  last  graciously  accepted 
her  as  a favor  during  November, — and  so  that 
was  settled.  The  second  difference  appeared  in 
buying  a ticket  and  inquiring  hours  of  transit; 
for  the  out-of-season  tickets  cost  nearly  twice  as 
much  as  the  in-season  or  excursion  tickets,  and 
the  train  and  boat  no  longer  made  any  especial 
effort  at  connection. 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


21 7 


“ Decidedly  the  Summer  Boarder  finds  ad- 
vantages the  private  individual  loses,”  mused 
Mysie,  as  she  wore  away  the  hours  at  Wood’s 
Holl  with  a novel,  and  with  such  refreshment  as 
the  station  offered  in  place  of  dinner.  And  yet 
the  discomfort  and  solitude  filled  her  with  exult- 
ing visions  of  a Nantucket  purified  from  Summer 
Boarder  and  no  longer  impregnable.  The  boat 
arrived,  and  Mysie  with  one  lady  passenger  em- 
barked, without  pushing  or  being  pushed,  and 
with  no  unseemly  struggle  for  seats,  since  ac- 
commodation for  a hundred  lay  at  the  disposal 
of  two.  The  sea  was  rough,  the  wind  was  high, 
the  sky  was  gray,  and  the  whole  forward  deck 
was  washed  with  spray;  the  contrast  with  the 
summer  sea,  summer  breeze,  summer  sky,  was 
sharp,  and  to  Mysie  most  cheering.  There,  were 
repose  and  idleness ; here,  strength  and  action : 
there,  the  spectacle  of  a people  to  whom  work 
is  life,  and  life  is  work,  deliberately  turning  its 
back  on  work  so  far  as  work  means  use,  and 
giving  itself  over  to  the  fatiguing  and  dishearten- 
ing work  called  pleasure,  inducing  in  the  mind 
of  the  philanthropist  a vast  pity  not  unmingled 
with  that  grim  satisfaction  even  a philanthropist 
feels  in  the  consciousness  of  superior  wisdom ; 


218 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


here,  on  the  other  hand,  were  laborers  of  one 
sort  and  another,  simply  using  this  boat  as  a 
means  of  transit  to  and  from  their  labors  with 
no  more  thought  of  their  conveyance  than  has 
the  artisan  who,  tin-pail  in  hand,  steps  on  a 
street-car  that  he  may  the  sooner  arrive  at  his 
shop.  The  lady  passenger  was  a Nantucket 
merchant  returning  home  with  her  winter  stock 
of  toys  and  Christmas  goods,  and  in  the  inter- 
vals of  walking  the  deck,  protected  by  ulster 
and  heavy  shawl,  Mysie  sat  with  her  in  a sunny 
shelter  and  discussed  island  folk  and  island  ways 
very  satisfactorily.  It  was  long  past  dark  when 
the  melancholy  voice  of  the  bell-buoy  swaying 
on  the  heavy  sea  announced  the  entrance  of  the 
harbor,  and  presently  the  boat  rounding  Brant 
Point  lay  up  to  her  wharf  so  snugly  one  might 
fancy  she  was  glad  of  the  shelter  and  the  pros- 
pect of  a night’s  rest.  One  or  two  courageous 
hackmen  replaced  the  summer  swarm,  and  Mysie 
was  really  pleased  to  think  of  the  surprise  she 
must  give  them  in  walking  off  the  boat,  when 
they  could  not  in  the  calm  light  of  reason 
have  looked  for  a fare.  The  old  home  was 
ready  for  her ; the  sweet  old  lady,  the  handsome 
and  gracious  hostess,  and  the  baby  with  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET 


219 


rose-bud  face,  each  giving  welcome  in  her  own 
fashion,  and  the  cosey  round  tea-table  uniting  the 
welcome  of  all. 

The  next  day  Mysie  took  possession  of  the 
Nantucket  she  had  seen  dimly  outlined  through 
a fog  of  Summer  Boarder  in  July  and  August, 
and  found  it  all  that  she  had  hoped,  more  than 
she  had  expected.  The  streets  were  empty  and 
quiet,  the  few  pedestrians  briskly  going  about 
their  business ; nobody  lounging,  nobody  look- 
ing in  at  shop-windows,  nobody  staring  vacant- 
ly about  in  search  of  some  indefinite  wonder. 
Several  of  the  shops  were  closed,  for  Nantucket 
people  do  not  buy  bric-a-brac,  nor  care  to  con- 
template neighbor  Folger’s  old  table  and  andi- 
rons, having  similar  articles  in  their  own  garrets; 
neithei^do  busy  people  in  their  own  town  much 
encourage  venders  of  cakes,  candies,  ice-cream, 
and  peanuts,  so  that  this  class  of  merchants  take 
their  own  holiday  during  the  off-season,  either 
going  on  “ the  continent  ” to  visit  their  friends, 
or  retiring  into  private  life  and  resting  in  change 
of  work.  Wishing  to  buy  some  sharks’-teeth 
ornaments,  and  finding  the  shop  where  they  had 
been  displayed  closed,  Mysie  with  some  diffi- 
culty traced  the  marchande  to  her  own  home, 


220 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


where  she  found  her  engaged  in  bread-making. 
With  the  usual  kind  politeness  of  a real  Nan- 
tucketer, she  left  her  own  occupations  and  sat 
down  to  entertain  the  stranger,  whom  she  treated 
as  a guest  rather  than  a customer,  giving  quite 
an  amusing  account  of  the  way  in  which  she  first 
suggested  to  some  boys  of  her  acquaintance  the 
extracting  and  cleansing  of  sharks’  teeth,  and 
their  amazement  at  finding  them  merchantable 
articles.  She  then  got  them  mounted  in  various 
forms,  by  a relative  of  hers,  a remarkably  gifted 
man,  who  has  succeeded  in  more,  and  more 
varied,  avocations  than  one  could  believe  who 
had  not  studied  New  England  as  developed 
in  Nantucket.  Just  now  there  were  no  sharks’ 
teeth  mounted ; but  if  the  lady  would  like  the 
teeth  as  they  were,  Mrs.  F.  believed  she^had  a 
few  stowed  away  in  a chest  up  garret.  Mysie 
was  sorry  to  give  the  trouble,  etc.,  but  without 
waiting  for  more  the  hostess  sped  away,  and 
was  presently  heard  dragging  heavy  boxes  on 
the  garret  floor,  and  evidently  taking  more 
trouble  to  gratify  a stranger’s  whim  than  another 
sort  of  dealer  would  for  a sale  of  twenty  dollars’ 
value.  In  the  end  she  would  have  given  the 
* sharks’  teeth  “ and  welcome,”  accepting  finally 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


221 


merely  what  she  had  paid  the  boy  for  them, 
“ seeing  that  it’s  out  of  season,” — a fact  some 
persons  would  have  cited  as  excuse  for  a double 
charge. 

Friend  James's  tin-shop  remained  open,  and 
a cosey  seat  by  the  stove  proved  as  inviting  as 
the  summer  airiness  and  greenery  of  the  place 
had  been.  What  a picture  Rembrandt  would 
have  made  of  that  great  rambling  shop,  with  its 
piles  of  curious  debris , its  strong  lights  and  deep 
shadows,  and  the  noble  head  and  stalwart, 
though  stooping  form  of  the  old  man  at  his 
work  beside  the  window,  the  pale  sunlight  on 
his  wintry  locks,  and  the  shrewd,  kindly  eyes 
glancing  up  at  the  visitor  as  he  propounded 
some  knotty  polemical  problem  or  reply.  One 
of  Nature’s  noblemen,  indeed;  and  yet  owing 
something,  as  one  must  believe,  to  that  careful 
genealogical  chart  at  home,  and  the  silent  con- 
sciousness of  responsibility  to  the  past  as  well  as 
to  the  present.  The  barber’s  shop  was  not  closed 
either ; and  Mysie,  after  peeping  in  at  the  window 
and  seeing  the  coast  clear,  entered  and  had  both  a 
good  look  at  the  fascinating  yet  terrible  picture 
of  the  Flagellation  saved  from  the  burning  Italian 
convent,  and  a little  chat  with  its  interesting  pro- 


222 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


prietor,  who  has  a story  of  his  own,  if  he  chooses 
to  tell  it,  beginning  “ before  the  war.”  The  post- 
office  also  was  open,  and  nothing  on  the  whole 
island  was  so  refreshing  as  to  miss  the  swarm  of 
people  who  in  the  season  pack  this  place  and 
crowd  around  its  doors  at  mail-time ; those  who 
have  not  a box  of  their  own  or  a right  in  some- 
body else’s  forming  two  queues,  — one  of  men, 
the  other  of  women ; the  latter,  as  the  postmaster 
ruefully  affirms,  much  more  unwilling  to  ob- 
serve other  people’s  rights  than  the  former ; and 
not  only  here,  but  everywhere  in  this  our  dear 
land  of  freedom,  it  is  a painful  and  patent  fact 
that  women  are  more  lawless,  more  frankly  self- 
ish, and  more  personally  rude  to  each  other 
than  men.  Perhaps  this  is  one  result  of  the 
universal  petting  American  women  grow  up  to 
receive  as  their  right.  No  men  in  the  world  are 
so  thoroughly  chivalrous  to  women,  irrespective 
of  age,  condition,  or  attractiveness,  as  American 
men;  and  it  is  really  touching  to  see,  and  to 
prove  by  travelling  alone  through  the  rougher 
and  less  cultivated  regions  of  our  States,  how 
men  the  rudest,  the  least  refined,  and  sometimes 
the  least  respectable  from  a severely  moral 
standpoint,  will  put  the  woman’s  safety,  com- 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


223 


fort,  even  whims,  before  their  own  correspondent 
needs,  not  as  a sacrifice,  but  quite  as  a matter 
of  course.  Foreigners  of  various  nationalities 
are  more  deferential  and  polished  of  manner, 
no  doubt;  but  if  a woman  alone  and  unpro- 
tected in  an  emergency  needs  advice  and  cham- 
pionship, let  her  seek  it  at  the  hands  of  first  an 
American,  next  an  Englishman.  The  first  will 
give  it  as  he  would  to  his  sister;  the  second,  as 
to  a helpless  creature  he  is  bound  to  protect, 
but  from  whom  he  hopes  no  claims  of  acquain- 
tanceship will  accrue  unless  a proper  introduc- 
tion can  be  subsequently  obtained. 

And,  coming  back  to  the  point  by  way  of  a 
curve,  this  habit  of  being  petted  has  made  its 
mark  upon  American  women,  developing  cer- 
tain charming  characteristics  of  confidingness, 
frankness,  and  the  desire  to  please,  and  certain 
very  uncharming  characteristics  of  exactingness, 
petulance,  indolence,  and  an  assurance  of  man- 
ner piquant  and  delightful  in  some  cases,  intol- 
erable in  others,  — especially  perhaps  in  a queue. 
Well ! spoiled  children  have  their  charms  and 
their  faults,  and  it  is  quite  just  that  they  who 
spoil  them  should  be  the  sufferers. 

Pursuing  her  investigations,  Mysie  discovered 


224 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


that  Dionis  was  laid  up  in  ordinary  for  the  win- 
ter, her  dismal  shriek  giving  place  to  the  wintry 
wind  howling  across  the  moors  in  prophecy  of  a 
storm. 

“ How  do  you  get  to  Surf-side  without  the 
railroad  ?”  inquired  she  of  an  ancient  and  fish- 
like  wanderer  around  the  deserted  station. 

“ Same  way  as  we  did  afore  we  ever  see  a 
railroad,”  replied  he,  with  a friendly  grin : 
“ foot  it,  or  hire  a team,  or  get  a lift  in  some- 
body else’s.” 

The  wharves  had  an  oddly  deserted  look,  and 
the  dark  waters  leaped  higher  about  them,  pre- 
paring for  the  winter  storms,  in  which  they  often 
rise  and  take  back  the  territory  man  has  stolen 
from  them.  All  the  pretty  yachts  and  row- 
boats filling  the  harbor  in  season  had  disap- 
peared, safely  housed  until  spring;  wood-piles 
and  other  wharf  lumber  were  cleared  away  lest 
the  sea  should  clear  them,  as  it  occasionally 
has  done ; the  doors  of  warehouses  and  offices 
looking  upon  the  harbor,  which  had  been  in 
summer  so  pleasant  and  hospitable  a resort,  were 
closed;  and  the  “ warm  men”  of  Nantucket 
gathered  about  the  stoves  inside,  smoking  many 
pipes,  and  telling  slow,  garrulous  stories  of  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


225 


old  time,  or  uttering  oracular  prophecies  con- 
cerning the  new. 

The  Captains’  Room  was  flourishing  with 
even  more  vivacity  than  in  the  summer;  for 
closed  doors,  a good  fire,  and  less  of  life  in  the 
streets  conduced  to  increased  sociability. 

Passing  by  the  Custom  House  one  day,  soon 
after  twelve  o’clock,  the  hour  when  the  captains 
dine,  Mysie  was  invited  to  view  the  Captains’ 
Room,  and  stepped  in  with  a good  deal  of  the 
feeling  of  the  girl  in  the  fairy  story,  who  went  to 
keep  house  for  the  big  bear,  the  little  bear,  and 
the  least  bear  of  all.  Not  that  the  captains  are 
bearish  of  demeanor, — not  in  the  least  so  ! But 
they  are  big  and  burly  and  hirsute  as  a rule,  and 
this  room  is  their  own  exclusive  domain.  Ex- 
cept, however,  a very  heavy  atmosphere  com- 
pounded of  tobacco,  boots,  and  wet  woollen 
clothes,  there  was  nothing  at  all  terrible  in  the 
Captains’  Room  ; four-and-twenty  roomy  wooden 
arm-chairs  stood  about  the  floor,  a few  prints  of 
favorite  vessels  hung  upon  the  walls,  as  the  por- 
traits of  beloved  racers  in  a horsey  man’s  apart- 
ment, or  pictures  of  the  saints  in  that  of  a devotee  ; 
a big  stove  stood  in  the  midst  of  a Sahara  of  sand 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  the  wintry  sun 
T5 


226 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS \ 


shone  in  at  some  of  the  four  windows  in  a reck- 
less, jolly  sort  of  fashion  quite  peculiar. 

The  representatives  of  the  ancien  regime  tell 
you  that  in  the  palmy  days  of  Nantucket, 
when  she  was  the  third  important  port  of  the 
United  States,  and  her  hundreds  of  ships  poured 
gold  by  the  bushel  into  the  quiet  coffers  of  her 
wealthy  men,  there  was  another  club- room  called 
“ The  House  of  Lords,”  where  the  captains  did 
not  presume  to  enter  unless  summoned,  for  this 
was  the  resort  of  the  owners  and  controllers  of 
the  whaling  interest, — men  who  said  to  a cap- 
tain, “ Do  this,”  and  he  did  it.  But  the  whales, 
the  whalers,  the  owners  and  their  wealth  have 
all  passed  away  together,  and  the  “ House  of 
Lords  ” has  become  but  a memory  and  a regret; 
while  the  hard-handed  old  captains,  each  with 
his  snugly  invested  little  fortune  and  his  otium 
cum  dignitate , survive,  and  keep  up  their  club 
with  all  the  ponderous  joviality  of  better  times. 

It  was  Mysie’s  privilege,  in  these  autumnal 
days,  to  be  admitted  to  many  homes  and  to 
talk  with  many  persons  whom  the  Summer 
Boarder  may  not  hope  to  reach ; and  the  quiet 
perfume  of  antiquity  and  conservatism  hanging 
round  both  homes  and  persons  was  like  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


227 


scent  of  dried  roses  in  a long-closed  cabinet,  or 
of  box-plants  in  a still  summer  noon  as  one 
saunters  through  the  old,  old  garden  of  a de- 
serted country  home.  A charming  lady,  quick 
and  bright,  and  full  of  anecdote  and  reminis- 
cence, in  spite  of  many  years  and  very  frail 
health,  made  her  welcome  both  at  her  house  in 
town  and  at  her  cottage  in  Sconset,  where  she 
drove  out  to  pass  the  few  days  of  St.  Martin’s 
summer,  unusually  soft  and  bright  this  year. 
And  here  Mysie  would  pathetically  protest 
against  the  popular  error  of  styling  every  warm 
day  after  September  1 the  Indian  summer.  No, 
dear  friends,  you  really  must  not  yield  to  this 
temptation ! it  is  doing  despite  both  to  tradition 
and  the  calendar.  The  Indian  summer  is  the 
old  English  St.  Martin’s  summer,  and  dates  from 
his  feast  of  November  11.  A few  days’  grace 
one  way  or  the  other  may  be  allowed  for  the 
arrival  of  that  delicious  week;  but  it  cannot,  it 
never  did,  it  never  will,  come  in  September  or 
October.  C'est  une  affaire  finie  ! 

To  this  dear  and  gracious  lady  Mysie  referred 
the  stories  her  mother  had  told  her  of  Nan- 
tucket fifty  years  ago : its  hospitality  and 

gayety,  and  its  severity  of  Quaker  discipline, — 


228 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


all  mingled  so  harmoniously.  And  with  the 
strange  thrill  of  one  who  suddenly  discovers 
that  a familiar  parchment  is  a palimpsest,  and 
carries  another  story  under  the  familiar  charac- 
ters, she  heard  yet  fuller  details  of  her  mother’s 
girlhood,  of  the  dances  and  the  squantums,  and 
the  moonlight  drives  in  the  box-wagons  (then 
Nantucket’s  only  carriages),  and  the  love  affairs, 
and  jealousies  and  quarrels,  rising  from  nothing 
yet  ending  in  the  dividing  for  all  time  of  two 
hearts,  as  fond  and  foolish,  as  weak  and  strong, 
as  the  hearts  of  youth  and  maid  to-day,  of  any 
true  lovers  who  have  madly  flung  away  their  own 
happiness  within  the  last  four-and-twenty  hours. 

Going  home  in  the  frosty  moonlight  after  an 
evening  with  this  friend,  Mysie  felt  as  if  she  car- 
ried a bouquet  of  pansies,  rue,  and  rosemary, 
plucked  from  a beloved  grave.  But  every  visit 
was  not  like  this ; and  many  a merry  story  and 
many  an  interesting  reminiscence  this  lady  had 
in  store,  and  freely  gave  to  the  visitor,  who 
still,  Oliver-like,  cried  “More!” 

Another  old  lady,  whom  everybody  called 
Grandma,  was  an  inexhaustible  treasury  of  an- 
ecdote and  history,  and  had  such  a vivid  and 
dramatic  way  of  telling  her  stories  that  one  felt 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


22Q 


as  if  the  whole  scene  were  passing  before  one’s 
eyes.  Her  husband  had  been  a captain,  and  all 
that  she  said  had  a strong  sea-flavor,  augmented 
by  a great  many  maritime  phrases,  as  natural  to 
her  as  ordinary  English  to  most  of  us.  One  of 
these  stories  will  never  again  be  possible  on 
Nantucket,  for  its  factors  have  passed  away.  It 
is  this : — 

Toward  midnight  of  one  of  those  summer 
evenings  when  the  darkness  seems  to  become 
a palpable  and  oppressive  substance,  one  of 
Grandma’s  relatives  arrived  at  the  house  with 
news  that  there  was  sudden  illness  in  his  family, 
and  her  presence  was  much  desired.  She  im- 
mediately rose  and  began  to  make  ready,  when 
the  young  man  added  that  he  still  must  go  for 
the  doctor,  but  would  come  back  if  needed  and 
escort  her ; but  the  brave  old  lady  scoffed  at  the 
idea  of  escort  or  protection  being  needed,  and 
after  a while  set  out  for  her  walk  of  a mile  and  a 
half  into  the  lonely  outskirts  of  the  town,  pick- 
ing her  way  among  tke  cobbles  and  sand-ruts 
of  the  way  by  aid  of  a lantern.  She  had  not 
gone  very  far  from  the  centre  of  the  town  when 
a curious  sound  attracted  her  attention,  growing 
louder  and  more  distinct,  yet  less  intelligible,  at 


230 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


every  moment.  Pausing  and  listening  intently, 
she  grew  more  and  more  puzzled  ; it  was  not  the 
distant  beat  of  the  surf  upon  the  South  Shore,  it 
was  not  the  wash  of  the  tide  sweeping  around 
Brant  Point,  it  was  not  the  plaintive  note  of  the 
bell-buoy,  nor  the  rustling  of  leaves  in  Neigh- 
bor Coffin’s  garden,  and  yet  it  resembled  all  of 
these.  And  every  moment  increased  both  sound 
and  mystery. 

“ Why  did  n’t  you  turn  and  run  home  as  fast 
as  you  could  go?  ” asked  Mysie,  at  this  point  of 
the  narrative.  Grandma  regarded  her  in  mild 
astonishment. 

“ What  should  I want  to  do  that  for?  Nan- 
tucket women  ain’t  brought  up  to  run  away,  any 
more  than  their  men  are.  No,  I just  kept  up 
as  near  the  town  as  I could ; for  I knew  if  there 
was  any  trouble  I could  hail  the  watchman  and 
have  help,  and  the  night  was  so  still  he ’d  be  sure 
to  hear;  and  I knew  there  were  n’t  any  Indians 
left  except  poor  old  Quary,  and  I never  was 
afraid  of  spirits.  So  I kept  along,  singing  a hymn 
and  wondering  if  the  Newtown  road  had  n’t  been 
pieced  out  somehow  and  I never  heard  of  it. 
But  fast  as  I walked  the  noise  came  closer  and 
closer,  and  by  and  by  it  was  close  behind,  and 


REAL  NANTUCKET 


231 


out  of  the  comer  of  my  eye  I could  see  some- 
thing white  that  kept  ranging  up  alongside  and 
then  dropping  out  of  sight,  until  at  last  it  came 
close  to,  and  a cold  wet  touch  on  my  hand  made 
me  drop  my  lantern.  Luckily  it  did  n’t  go  out, 
and  I picked  it  up  before  it  hardly  reached  the 
ground,  and  faced  round  swinging  it  over  my 
head  and  calling  out,  ‘ Come  on,  and  show  your 
colors,  whoever  you  be ! You  can’t  scare  me.’ 
There  was  n’t  any  answer  just  at  first,  but  I 
could  see  that  the  whole  road  behind  and  on 
each  side  of  me  was  full  of  white  things  surging 
up  and  down,  just  like  the  breakers  out  on  the 
Rips;  and  for  a minute  I felt  — well,  a little 
queer,  maybe;  but  before  I had  time  to  get 
scared,  the  old  fellow  heading  the  fleet  gave 
back  my  hail  with  a ‘ B-a-a-a ! ’ that  most  took 
me  off  my  feet.  Then  I just  stood  there  and 
laughed ; and  if  I had  got  a little  excited  over 
it  all,  the  good  laugh  carried  it  off  and  left  me 
as  calm  as  a clock.” 

“But  who  were  they,  after  all?”  asked  Mysie, 
bewildered. 

“Who  were  they?”  repeated  Grandma,  impa- 
tiently. “ Why,  Ywas  the  Town  Flock.  Some- 
body had  left  the  Newtown  gate  open,  and  the 


232 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Town  Flock  had  come  in  same  as  they  always 
did  when  they  got  the  chance,  to  look  after  the 
neighbors’  gardens  and  fodder  stacks ; and  then 
seeing  my  lantern  swinging  along,  they  thought 
maybe  it  was  some  one  coming  to  feed  them. 
Or  — nobody  can  tell  what  they  thought;  only 
if  a sheep  sees  anything  bright  and  glittery  he  ’ll 
run  after  it;  and  where  one  goes  another  will  fol- 
low, until  the  last  of  the  flock  don’t  even  know 
what  they ’re  running  after, — just  following  on 
because  the  rest  do.  There ’s  folks  like  that 
in  some  parts  of  the  world,  I ’ve  heard.” 

“ I ’ve  heard  so,  too.  And  how  did  you  get 
rid  of  your  followers?” 

“ I did  n’t.  I hurried  some  after  that,  and  they 
came  pattering  along  close  beside  and  behind 
me,  until  I turned  in  where  I was  going.  There 
was  a garden  in  front  of  the  house,  and  a nar- 
row walk  up  through  it,  with  a low  fence  each 
side;  the  first  sheep  came  along  up  the  walk 
and  up  the  steps  till  their  noses  touched  the 
door  itself;  and  as  many  more  as  could  crowded 
in  after,  but  luckily  they  did  n’t  think  of  jump- 
ing over  the  fences  into  the  garden.  So  the 
last  thing  I saw  as  I went  in  was  this  long, 
narrow  strip  of  white,  coming  up  from  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET.  233 

road,  and  the  road  itself  full  of  ghosts  as  far  as 
I could  look.  I bid  them  all  a kind  good-night, 
blew  out  my  lantern,  and  went  in;  and  once  in, 
I found  a plenty  to  think  about  besides  sheep, 
so  I did  n’t  say  anything.  But  next  morning, 
when  I went  home,  I smiled  to  see  how  the 
dusty  road  was  all  marked  up  with  little  hoof- 
prints  ; somebody  had  driven  them  out  and  shut 
the  gate  before  that,  however.,, 

Naturally,  after  hearing  this  anecdote,  Mysie 
was  interested  in  the  sheep  question,  and  found 
it  one  of  the  integral  portions  of  Nantucket’s 
history.  The  moors,  or  “ commons,”  as  they  are 
popularly  called,  are  especially  adapted  for  sheep- 
grazing, both  in  a positive  and  negative  sense, — 
the  short,  dry  herbage  making  particularly  fine 
mutton,  and  the  soil  seeming  incapable  of  rais- 
ing anything  else.  Hence,  from  the  earliest 
days,  sheep  have  been  a specialty  of  Nantucket, 
and  a source  of  wealth  rivalling  the  whale.  To 
thoroughly  elucidate  the  sheep  question  is  re- 
served for  some  Macaulay,  Carlyle,  or  Macken- 
zie  of  the  future,  for  it  involves  not  only  the 
chief  land-industry  of  this  remarkable  island, 
but  its  chief  political  economy,  its  municipal 
struggles,  its  angry  passions,  its  still  smoulder- 


234 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


ing  feuds,  its  family  quarrel  decently  guarded 
from  the  stranger’s  eye.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
the  moors  were  once  owned  in  common,  any 
man  using  them  for  grazing  ground  as  he  would  ; 
and  subsequently  they  were  nominally  divided 
into  shares,  each  shareholder  having  the  right  to 
graze  a fixed  number  of  sheep  without  bound- 
aries. There  were  several  favorite  pastures  for 
these  flocks,  one  of  them  lying  just  outside  the 
part  of  the  village  called  Newtown;  and  here  a 
gate  was  placed  across  the  road  to  keep  what 
was  called  the  Town  Flock  from  coming  in  and 
devastating  the  gardens  by  night.  Beside  this 
gate  also  stood  the  only  gallows  ever  erected  on 
Nantucket,  and  here  the  solitary  execution  took 
place;  the  culprit  was  an  Indian,  taken  red- 
handed  in  the  act  of  murder,  and  whether  the 
gallows  was  a salutary  terror  to  the  sheep  as 
well  as  the  Indians  is  not  mentioned  in  history. 

The  Indians  soon  died  out,  but  the  sheep  in- 
creased and  multiplied  until  they  were  counted 
by  thousands ; and  for  a century  or  so  an  idyllic 
and  pastoral  Shearing  Feast  was  kept  by  the 
entire  population,  who,  on  the  first  Monday  in 
June*  migrated  to  the  ponds  near  the  western 
end  of  the  island,  whither  the  sheep  had  been 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


235 


previously  driven  up  and  penned.  Miacomet 
Plain,  with  its  chain  of  ponds, — one  of  them  still 
called  Washing  Pond, — then  became  for  three 
days  an  encampment  of  tents  and  booths,  where 
busy  matrons  and  merry  girls  cooked  such  savory 
dishes  as  were  at  that  time  dear  to  the  island 
epicure,  or  set  forth  those  daintier  viands  pre- 
pared at  home.  The  fathers,  husbands,  broth- 
ers, and  sweethearts  meantime  washed  the  sheep, 
lightening  their  labor  with  a great  deal  of  rough 
play  and  many  practical  jokes  among  themselves, 
and  returned  them  to  the  pens  to  dry  until  next 
day,  when  the  shearing  began  ; and  let  us  be  glad 
Mr.  Bergh  was  not  obliged  to  watch  its  progress, 
since  seldom  did  a sheep  escape  his  shearer’s 
hands  without  one  or  more  patches  of  tar  to 
show  where  the  scissors  had  gone  deeper  than 
the  fleece.  The  next  thing  was  to  re-brand 
each  animal  with  its  owner’s  initial  or  emblem ; 
and  then  the  shearing  was  over,  and  the  encamp- 
ment broke  up,  the  lads  and  lasses  finishing  out 
the  holiday  with  a surreptitious  dance  in  town,— 
for  these  were  the  days  of  Quaker  supremacy, 
when  dancing,  music,  cards,  and  most  modes  of 
amusement  were  strictly  forbidden.  But  like 
most  efforts  to  suppress  human  nature,  these 


236 


NANTUCKE7'  SCRAPS. 


laws  were  only  fully  honored  by  those  who  had 
no  longer  the  temptation  to  break  them ; and 
the  young  Quakers  danced,  sang,  and  frolicked 
in  their  generation  very  much  as  their  too-lib- 
eral  descendants  do  to-day. 

A little  poem,  from  the  collection  previously 
quoted,  gives  a vivid  picture  of  the  simple  and 
pastoral  pleasures  connected  with  the  shearing- 
season,  and  may  be  preserved  as  a memorial  of 
scenes  forever  passed  away : — 

THE  HARPER. 

BY  C.  F.  B. 

Old  Ocean’s  stormy  barrier  passed, 

The  Harper  gained  the  beach  at  last ; 

He  seized  his  harp,  he  leaped  ashore, 

He  played  his  wild  refrain  once  more,  — 

The  same  old  sixpence,  “ tew  and  tew,” 

Echoed  the  shores  of  bleak  Coatue  : 

’T  was  “ tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen  ! 


Onward  but  not  unheeded  went 
The  harper  old  ; his  form  was  bent, 
His  doublet  wool,  his  hose  were  tow, 
His  pantaloons  cut  so-and-so  : 

The  people  gazed,  the  coofs  admired, 
And  many  stranger  things  transpired  ; 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


237 


Coppers  from  many  a hand  were  wrung 
As,  wading  through  the  sand,  he  sung : 

’T  is  “ tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen  ! 

The  streets  are  passed,  the  plain  is  reached 
Whose  uniqueness  was  ne’er  impeached, — 
Dearer  to  him  than  Marathon, 

Or  any  plain  beneath  the  sun  ; 

Dearer  by  far  than  hymns  or  psalms 
The  bleating  of  those  new-born  lambs  ; 

Dearer  than  all  that  homespun  strain 
The  harper  wildly  sings  amain : 

’T  is  u tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen  ! 

The  harper  seats  him  ’neath  a tent 
Made  of  a mainsail  patched  and  rent ; 

The  curious  folk,  of  every  hue, 

Looked  on  as  though  they ’d  look  him  through. 
He  signifies  his  mad  intent 
To  drink  — of  the  limpid  element  ; 

He  eats  a large  three-cornered  bun, 

And  then,  his  slight  refection  done, 

He  takes  his  harp,  and  plays  again 
The  same  mysterious  wild  refrain  : 

’T  is  “ tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen  ! 

Soon  as  the  harper  old  appeared 
A ring  was  formed,  a space  was  cleared ; 

Three  maidens  clad  in  spotless  white, 

Three  nice  young  men,  all  dandies  quite, 


238 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Impatient  for  the  dance  are  seen 

On  the  brown-sward,  — some  call  it  green. 

No  light  fantastic  toes  belong 
To  any  of  that  joyous  throng, 

They  ’re  all  prepared  to  reel  it  strong. 

The  harper  rosins  well  his  bow, 

The  very  cat-gut ’s  in  a glow, 

With  “ tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen ! 

The  sheep  are  sheared,  the  reel  is  done, 

The  harper  back  to  coofdom  gone  ; 

My  lay  is  closed,  you  ’ll  think  it  meet,  — 

Pleasures  are  always  short  when  sweet: 

’T  was  so  when  first  the  world  begun, 

’T  will  be  so  when  the  world  is  done. 

Who  was  the  harper  ? what  his  strain  ? 

Wait  till  you  hear  him  play  again  : 

’T  is  “ tew  I can’t,  and  tew  I can,” 

All  the  way  to  the  shearing-pen  ! 

1844. 

But  the  serpent  of  variance  invaded  this 
pretty  pastoral,  as  he  mostly  does  all  pretty 
scenes;  and  it  was  gradually  perceived  that 
many  proprietors  of  the  common  land  pastured 
a great  many  more  sheep  than  they  were  en- 
titled to,  and  a good  many  pasturers  were  not 
proprietors  at  all.  Ten  thousand  sheep  were 
too  many  for  the  pasturage  at  any  rate,  and 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


239 


while  every  year  the  flocks  increased,  the  feed 
diminished.  In  this  emergency,  the  legitimate 
shareholders  proposed  to  abolish  the  privilege 
of  the  commons,  and  let  every  man  enclose  his 
portion  if  he  would ; or,  if  not,  remove  his 
sheep.  Here  was  the  Apple  of  Discord  thrown 
upon  the  municipal  Board*  with  a vengeance ; 
and  from  the  hour  of  its  first  appearance  to 
some  few  years  back,  that  bitter  fruit  sufficed  to 
feed  the  whole  island.  The  bitterest  opposers 
of  the  measure  were  naturally  the  men  who 
either  owned  no  land  at  all,  or  who  had  so 
overstocked  it  as  to  convert  their  innocent  white 
sheep  into  the  blackest  of  pirates;  but  there 
were  also  a good  many  just  and  legitimate  pro- 
prietors who  thought  there  might  be  some  way 
discovered  of  roasting  the  pig  short  of  burning 
the  house  down,  and  who  disliked  giving  up 
an  institution  of  two  centuries'  existence.  The 
quarrel  raged  with  all  the  personality  and  vir- 
ulence characterizing  family  differences,  when 
everybody  knows  just  where  everybody  else’s 
shoe  pinches ; but  in  the  end  the  reformers  car- 
ried the  day,  the  sheep  were  killed  or  exported, 
the  Shearing  Feast  was  unhonored,  the  moors 
became  yet  lonelier  than  their  wont,  and  Mia- 


240 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


comet  Plain  and  the  Washing  Pond  retained 
only  the  ticks  still  abundantly  pervading  that 
favored  locality  to  remind  one  of  the  gay  scenes 
so  long  enacted  there.  A large  source  of  profit 
was  thus  cut  off  from  the  island ; for,  as  one  of 
its  best  men  quaintly  remarks  to-day,  “ Just  let 
me  graze  as  many  sheep  as  I like  on  the  com- 
mons, and  I ’ll  take  care  of  Robert.”  A small 
compensation  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  flora 
of  the  island,  which  remained  in  strict  abeyance 
under  the  close  cropping  of  the  sheep,  has  since 
their  removal  started  into  wonderful  profusion 
and  brilliancy,  — many  flowers  before  unknown 
blossoming  abundantly,  and  many  others  form- 
erly only  found  in  certain  localities  and  limited 
supply,  now  rioting  fearlessly  on  every  side. 
Probably  the  visitors  who  seem  to  consider  the 
island  as  their  own  freehold  prefer  the  present 
condition  of  things,  only  regretting  that  the 
sheep  did  not  carry  away  the  ticks  as  well  as 
the  wool. 

One  of  the  charms  of  Nantucket  is  her  old 
people  : a large  party  of  octogenarians  might  be 
gathered,  and  a very  fair  company  of  those  who 
have  counted  their  ninetieth  birthday.  To  sit 
quietly  down  with  one  or  more  of  these  old 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


241 


people,  and  beguile  them  into  telling  their  ex- 
periences, especially  when  one  flatly  contradicted 
another,  and  thus  evolved  little  details  and  cor- 
roborative circumstances,  was  one  of  Mysie’s 
dear  delights ; and  she  will  for  the  rest  of  her 
life  luxuriate  in  the  consciousness  of  knowing 
a great  deal  more  than  she  means  to  tell  about 
Nantucket.  “ Don’t  spoil  a story  to  save  a 
friend  ” is  one  of  the  basest  of  maxims  if  seri- 
ously taken;  and  every  guest  is  more  or  less 
bound  over  to  secrecy,  if  the  repeating  of  what 
he  sees  and  hears  would  wound  the  tenderest 
susceptibilities.  That  this  rule  should  so  often 
have  been  disregarded,  even  by  such  writers 
as  Dickens,  Trollope,  Bremer,  and  some  of  more 
recent  date  and  less  note,  is  a disgrace  to  the 
guild  of  authors,  and  shall  not  be  continued  in 
this  instance.  So,  although  like  Scheherezade, 
Mysie  knows  far  more  wonderful  things  than  yet 
have  been  told,  honor  forbids  her  to  mention 
them  except  in  a very  limited  fashion. 

Here  for  instance  is  a story  told  all  over  the 
world,  although  true  only  of  Captain  Barnard 
of  Nantucket,  who,  after  standing  all  the  inso- 
lence he  could  from  the  profane  officer  of  a craft 
trying  to  crowd  him  out  of  his  place  at  the 
16 


242 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


wharf,  stepped  to  the  hatchway  and  called  to  his 
less  scrupulous  mate  : “ Obed  ! I say,  Obed  ! 
just  step  on  deck,  will  thee,  and  use  some  of  thy 
unadvised  language  to  this  blasphemer ! ” 

A similar  story  is  told  of  another  Quaker  cap- 
tain afflicted  with  a profane  mate,  who  frequently 
complained  that  his  usefulness  was  impaired  by 
the  restrictions  laid  upon  his  tongue  by  the 
master.  On  one  occasion,  the  schooner  com- 
manded by  this- scrupulous  yet  shrewd  Friend 
arrived  in  port  at  low  tide,  and  so  deeply  loaded 
that  she  could  not  come  up  to  the  wharf  for 
some  hours.  In  this  emergency  the  mate  pro- 
posed to  the  “ old  man  ” that  they  should  go 
ashore  and  report  themselves  at  their  respective 
homes,  promising  to  come  down  himself  and 
move  the  schooner  at  the  proper  time. 

“ Thee  ’ll  want  some  one  to  help  thee  get  up 
the  anchor,  Zimri,”  said  the  captain,  “ for  boy 
Samwel  is  not  strong  enough.  Thee ’d  better 
get  Nathan  Folger,  and  take  care  that  thee 
does  n’t  let  slip  any  folly  before  him.” 

“ I ’ll  get  a fellow  that  won’t  look  sideways 
at  anything  I ’m  o’  mind  to  say,”  replied  Zimri, 
confidently,  and  the  captain  walked  away  with- 
out another  word.  About  the  middle  of  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


243 


night,  when  the  young  flood  was  two  or  three 
hours  old,  he  left  his  house  and  quietly  walked 
down  to  the  foot  of  Straight  Wharf,  where,  en- 
sconced behind  a pile  of  lumber,  he  could  see 
and  hear  all  that  went  on.  The  night  was  calm 
and  still,  but  rather  dark,  for  there  was  no  moon  ; 
and  although  the  schooner  was  plainly  visible, 
the  captain  could  not  make  out  how  many  men 
were  working  the  capstan,  whose  creaking  wras 
mingled  with  violent  expostulations  in  Zimri’s 
voice,  of  so  oddly  profane  a nature  that  the 
master’s  chastened  lips  could  hardly  restrain  a 
smile,  — perhaps  did  not. 

The  language,  unhappily,  is  not  of  a nature  to 
be  written  down,  whereby  the  reader  loses  a 
good  deal  of  enlightenment  upon  the  curiosities 
of  profanity ; but  it  mainly  consisted  in  exhor- 
tations to  more  vigorous  effort  in  heaving  the 
windlass,  mingled  with  reflections  upon  the  par- 
entage, nationality,  and  moral  character  of  the 
person  addressed.  The  captain  listened  to  this 
for  a while,  and  then  began  to  wonder  why  the 
other  party  made  no  response,  although  Zimri 
often  seemed  to  catch  up  his  words  as,  “ Heav- 
ing all  you  can,  d’  y*  say,  you etc  ! Then 

— —poor  is  your  best,  and  y ’d  better  run  home 
to  your  mammy,  till  you  Ve  set  some  muscle.” 


244 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ Now,  if  Zimri  has  got  that  withy  boy  Samwel, 
and  is  making  him  do  man’s  work  and  listen 
to  profane  words,  verily  I shall  be  righteously 
indignant,”  murmured  the  captain,  straining  his 
eyes  through  the  darkness.  “ Whoever  it  is, 
he  should  henceforth  be  called  Moses,”  contin- 
ued he,  presently.  “ For  truly  only  the  meekest 
among  men  could  patiently  endure  such  re- 
marks, especially  as  concerning  his  mother.” 

But  now  the  anchor  was  apeak,  a piece  of  the 
mainsail  hoisted,  and  the  schooner  came  floating 
slowly  up  to  the  wharf.  The  captain  shrinking 
closer  within  the  shadow  peered  curiously  out, 
resolved  to  know  what  man  so  meek,  or  boy  so 
unlucky,  Zimri  had  found  for  his  assistant,  and 
framing  various  reproofs  to  be  administered  upon 
the  morrow.  The  mainsail  fell,  the  decks  were 
apparent,  the  schooner  rounded  gracefully  to  the 
wharf,  just  grazing  the  piles  without  rubbing, 
and  Zimri  hastily  running  forward  to  secure  her 
nose  to  his  favorite  post,  audibly  exclaimed : 
“ There,  Zimri  Starbuck,  you ’ve  got  her  in  all 
by  yourself ; and  your  feelin’s  aint  hurt  a mite 
by  all  the  cussin’  and  swearin’  you ’ve  stood,  be 
they,  old  man?  ” 

Yes,  he  had  done  it  all  by  himself;  and  the 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


245 


terrible  abuse  and  profanity  were  only  the  safety 
valve  of  the  extra  steam  put  on  for  the  occa- 
sion. The  captain  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  softly 
pursed  his  lips  as  if  to  whistle  in  making  this 
discovery,  but  never  asked  Zimri  how  he  had 
got  the  schooner  to  the  wharf;  nor  did  he  in 
future  listen  too  attentively  when  any  very  hard 
job  was  in  process  with  the  mate  in  command. 

During  a slight  illness  at  Nantucket,  Mysie  en- 
joyed the  ministrations  of  an  old  nurse,  whose 
reminiscences,  personal,  ancestral,  and  social, 
were  most  amusing.  In  her  parlor  hung  a por- 
trait painted  in  France,  of  considerable  merit 
in  itself,  and  depicting  the  merry  yet  resolute 
countenance  of  her  ancestor  Captain  Kelly,  — a 
commander  famed  in  Revolutionary  annals  for 
his  audacity  and  contempt  of  odds.  One  story 
told  by  his  descendant,  with  so  much  verve  and 
fire  that  one  felt  the  same  blood  indeed  coursed 
in  her  veins,  was  how,  during  the  Revolutionary 
war,  Kelly,  in  a swift,  light-draught  schooner, 
arrived  off  Nantucket  deeply  loaded  with  pro- 
visions, seed-corn,  and  other  necessaries  of  life, 
all  desperately  needed  by  the  islanders,  whose 
few  possible  ports  were  so  rigorously  blockaded 
by  an  English  frigate  that  a threatened  famine 


246 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


was  upon  them.  Kelly  knew  his  enemy  right 
well,  and  knew  too  that  in  an  open  encounter 
one  broadside  would  sink  his  little  schooner, 
consign  him  and  his  men  to  a foreign  prison,  and 
snatch  from  the  very  grasp  of  his  townsmen  the 
food  of  which  they  stood  so  sorely  in  need. 

These  considerations  made  him  prudent,  al- 
though nothing  could  make  him  timid ; and  he 
accordingly  fetched  so  large  a compass  in  ap- 
proaching the  island  that  he  made  out  the  position 
of  the  frigate  some  time  before  she  discovered 
him,  and  was  able  to  keep  out  of  sight  until, 
wind  and  tide  both  favoring  him,  he  suddenly 
clapped  on  all  sail,  put  the  little  racing  schooner 
upon  her  best  point,  and  audaciously  slipped  up 
and  past  the  frigate,  which,  like  a man  in  con- 
troversy with  a woman,  did  not  get  ready  to  re- 
ply to  this  impertinence  until  the  occasion  had 
passed.  As  soon  as  she  could  get  round  to  it, 
however,  she  started  in  pursuit,  and  presently 
hailed  Kelly  to  lay  to  and  surrender,  or  he  would 
be  sunk.  Kelly  made  no  reply  except  an  extra 
pull  on  the  sheets  fore  and  aft,  and  an  anxious 
look  over  the  side  at  the  rapidly  shoaling  water. 
The  breathless  watchers  in  town  had  by  this  time 
caught  sight  of  the  chase,  and  word  was  carried 
from  house  to  house, — 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


247 


“ Kelly  ’s  coming  into  harbor  with  every  rag 
of  canvas  set,  and  the  British  after  him  like  — 
Hail  Columbia ! ” 

Fancy  how  the  “walks”  on  the  house-tops 
were  crowded,  and  how  men  with  frowning 
faces,  and  women  with  hungry  children  and 
empty  larders,  watched  that  chase,  and  how 
Kelly’s  own  people  held  their  breath,  for  it 
was  life  and  death  for  them.  It  is  the  fashion 
to  say  that  we  live  faster  than  our  ancestors, 
but  not  many  of  us  have  known  so  vivid  an 
hour  as  that.  Well,  the  frigate  fired,  but  the 
shot  flew  harmlessly  over  the  low  decks  of  the 
schooner;  and  now  she  had  reached  the  bar, 
and  not  six  feet  of  water  lay  between  her  keel 
and  the  sand.  She  was  safe  from  actual  cap- 
ture, and  almost  out  of  range  of  the  limited 
artillery  of  those  days ; and  then  Kelly,  drawing 
breath  and  taking  his  eyes  from  the  sails,  ordered 
his  own  one  gun  fired,  not  in  any  hope  of  mis- 
chief, but  in  pure  bravado  and  rejoicing,  — very 
much  as  a Bantam  cockerel,  who  has  driven  an 
astonished  mastiff  out  of  the  barnyard,  mounts 
the  nearest  rail  and  crows  loud  and  long.  So 
Kelly  fired,  and  loaded  and  fired  again,  until  he 
reached  the  wharf ; or  as  near  as  he  could  come, 


248 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


and  his  townsmen  replied  to  his  salvo  with 
bravoes  as  exultant.  But  already  the  frigate’s 
boats  were  pulling  with  might  and  main  to  cut 
out  the  schooner  before  she  should  anchor; 
and,  failing  in  that,  hallooed  an  angry  demand 
that  schooner,  cargo,  and  men  should  be  im- 
mediately surrendered  and  towed  out  as  a lawful 
prize  to  the  British  crown. 

The  precise  terms  in  which  this  demand  was 
answered  are  not  recorded,  but  it  is  feared  they 
were  neither  polite  nor  kind.  At  all  events  the 
frigate  did  not  insist,  and  the  schooner  was  un- 
laden in  a marvellously  short  space  of  time, 
and  Nantucket  celebrated  her  victory  with  an 
abundant  supper. 

The  old  people  have  also  much  to  tell  of  the 
peculiar  social  relations  existing  in  their  day 
among  the  girls  and  boys. 

School  friendships  were  not  then  what  they 
became  later,  for  school  was  no  very  important 
part  of  life  in  those  days,  both  girls  and  boys 
being  expected  to  take  their  share  of  the  labors 
of  life  much  earlier  than  now.  The  boys,  many 
of  them,  were  put  to  learn  the  cooper’s  trade  as 
a sort  of  general  preparation  for  a whaler’s  life, 
and  at  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


249 


generally  made  their  first  voyage  as  “ boy  ” 
before  the  mast  of  one  of  the  many  whalers 
then  crowding  the  bay.  The  girls  meantime 
helped  their  mothers  in  the  house,  and  learned 
to  spin,  weave,  knit,  and  sew,  as  well  as  to  attend 
in  the  absence  of  their  fathers  and  brothers  to 
many  outside  duties.  Sets  of  these  young  peo- 
ple, drawn  together  by  neighborhood  or  social 
ties,  combined  in  what  they  called  “ gangs,” 
each  little  society  keeping  very  much  within 
itself,  and  meeting  every  evening  for  whatever 
fun  might  be  suggested.  In  summer  these  meet- 
ings were  in  the  streets,  on  the  wharves,  or  any- 
where out  of  doors,  but  in  the  winter  a warm 
fireside  was  desirable.  As  the  presence  of  elders 
was  notan  object,  it  became  quite  important  to 
discover  whose  mother  was  going  out  to  spend 
the  evening;  and  one  can  easily  imagine  how 
often  an  indulgent  matron  would  find  it  con- 
venient to  take  her  knitting  and  run  in  to 
neighbor  So-and-so’s  for  a chat,  leaving  the 
kitchen  bright  and  warm  for  the  “ gang,”  who 
hardly  waited  for  her  back  to  be  turned  before 
they  filled  the  place  with  the  laughter,  songs, 
and  merry  gibes  forming  the  usual  intercourse 
among  these  vigorous  young  sea-folk.  On  one 


250 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


occasion  the  “ gang  ” to  which  the  narrator  be- 
longed was  in  despair : nobody’s  mother  was 
going  out.  The  evening  was  cold  and  stormy, 
and  the  girls  were  threatening  to  return  home, 
when  as  all  stood  huddled  together  at  Ham- 
matt’s  Corner,  the  usual  rendezvous,  a meek 
and  overgrown  lad,  not  one  of  their  company, 
came  lounging  past,  and  Hannah  Gar’ner  whis- 
pered to  Pelatiah  Coleman, — 

“ There ’s  Jacob  Mayo  ! He  was  casting 
sheep’s  eyes  at  my  cousin  Lovicy  last  First  day. 
Now  if  he’d  go  see  her  to-night,  her  mother 
would  make  a fire  in  the  fore-room  and  sit 
there  with  ’em  for  a while  before  she  went  to 
bed.” 

“ Hannah,  thee ’d  ought  to  command  a three- 
decker,”  exclaimed  Pelatiah,  admiringly;  and 
following  Jacob  with  elaborate  carelessness  he 
inquired  what  that  young  patriarch  proposed 
doing  with  himself.  Jacob  did  not  know,  and 
Machiavel  then  suggested, — 

“ Lovicy  Gar’ner ’s  at  home  to-night,  and  she 
sets  store  by  thee,  — any  fool  may  see  it.  Why 
don’t  thee  go  and  sit  up  with  her?  ” 

“ Does  thee  think  she  likes  me,  Pelatiah?” 
demanded  Jacob,  much  flattered.  “ Why,  then, 
I think  I ’ll  go.” 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


251 


Heartily  applauding  this  decision,  Pelatiah 
walked  along  with  his  victim,  the  “ gang”  follow- 
ing at  a discreet  distance,  until  they  had  seen 
him  pull  the  string  which  in  those  days  raised 
the  latch  of  every  house-door  in  Nantucket,  and 
then  they  huddled  about  the  window  to  peep 
and  listen.  Lovicy,  a pretty  girl  somewhat  older 
than  the  “ gang,”  sat  demurely  knitting  beside 
the  fire,  while  her  mother,  great  round  spectacles 
on  nose,  patched  her  boy’s  trousers  at  the  table. 
Jacob,  looking  rather  foolish,  was  seated  between 
the  two,  gazing  into  the  fire  and  twiddling  his 
thumbs.  Presently  the  mother,  mindful  of  the 
etiquette  demanded  by  the  occasion,  cleared  her 
throat,  arid  said,  — 

“ Lovicy,  thee ’d  better  light  the  fire  in  the 
fore-room  and  take  thy  company  in  there.  It ’s 
all  laid,  thee  knows.” 

The  “ gang  ” outside  poked  each  other,  the 
girls  cramming  their  shawls  and  the  boys  their 
fists  into  their  mouths  to  suppress  a roar  of 
laughter,  while  Lovicy,  meek  and  silent  but  very 
red,  did  as  she  was  bid,  disappearing  for  a few 
moments  and  then  returning  with,  — 

“ Will  thee  walk  into  the  fore-room,  mother 
and  Jacob?  ” 


252 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


Jacob  rose  at  once,  but  the  mother  paused  and 
looked  meditatively  at  the  fire. 

“ If  she  rakes  it  out ! ” — muttered  Pelatiah. 
But  Hannah  calmly  responded,  “ Then  we  ’ll 
rake  it  in  again.” 

But  the  fire  was  well  burned  down,  and  so 
little  likely  to  snap  that  the  prudent  housewife 
was  content  to  leave  it  to  burn  out,  and  pres- 
ently followed  the  “ company  ” into  the  fore- 
room, to  give  his  visit  the  sanction  of  her 
presence  for  a short  time  and  then  retire. 

Hardly  was  the  door  closed  behind  her,  when 
the  latch  of  the  outside  kitchen  door  was  silently 
raised  and  the  “ gang  ” crept  in  on  tiptoe,  their 
broad  smiles  alone*manifesting  their  satisfaction 
at  the  success  of  their  strategy.  Still  in  silence 
the  fire  was  replenished,  and  gathering  close 
about  it  the  young  marauders  began  a whis- 
pered chat,  or,  as  it  was  universally  called,  a 
“gam,”  which  after  a while  evoked  so  many  sti- 
fled bursts  of  laughter  that  they,  or  the  snap- 
ping of  the  fire,  reached  the  ears  of  the  mistress, 
who  suddenly  opening  the  door  of  the  fore- 
room exclaimed, — 

“ Well,  of  all  the  impudence  ! ” 

But  a chorus  of  gay  apologies  and  petitions 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


253 


for  hospitality  drowned  her  voice,  and  the 
“ gang  ” finished  their  evening  with  the  usual 
innocent  hilarity. 

On  another  occasion,  two  girls  of  this  same 
gang  were  strolling  aimlessly  about  in  the  twi- 
light, and  found  a stray  hen  roosting  upon  a 
fence.  A small  demon  of  mischief  suggested 
that  this  waif  might  be  regarded  as  public  pro- 
perty, and  become  lawful  salvage  to  the  first 
finder.  Skilfully  seizing  poor  biddy  by  the 
legs,  Sally  suggested,  — 

“ Say,  Betty,  let’s  carry  this  hin  up  to  Becky’s 
and  have  a hin-chowder.  She  and  I ’ll  make  it, 
and  you, go  round  and  find  some  of  the  gang  to 
come  and  eat  it.” 

Betty  agreed  ; and  Sally  muffling  the  “ hin’s  ” 
head  in  her  shawl,  sped  along  the  lanes  until  the 
two  stood  outside  the  window  of  Becky’s  abode 
and  peeped  in  at  the  kitchen  window.  There 
sat  Becky  by  the  fire  to  be  sure,  but  near  her 
sat^Reuben  Hussey,  a grave  and  sedate  youth, 
who  was  understood  to  be  preparing  for  the  min- 
istry, and  was  rather  an  object  of  awe  to  the 
revellers  of  Becky’s  company,  although  she  her- 
self was  evidently  inclined  to  feel  honored  by 
his  attentions. 


254 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


“ There  ’s  Reuben  Hussey/'  whispered  Betty, 
“ and  he  ’ll  spoil  all  our  fun.  Let ’s  give  it  up, 
Sally.” 

But  Sally  was  of  bolder  mettle,  and,  without 
waiting  for  argument,  opened  the  door  and 
walked  in,  the  hen  under  her  arm.  “ Well, 
Becky,”  began  she,  “ I ’m  glad  you  had  n’t  gone 
on  a cruise,  for  we ’ve  got  a hin ; and  we  ’re  go- 
ing to  make  hin-chowder,  and  get  some  of  the 
girls  and  boys  to  come  and  help  eat  it.” 

“ That ’s  right ! ” exclaimed  Becky,  with  spark- 
ling eyes.  But  Reuben  interposed  with  the 
austere  question,  — 

“ Where  did  the  hen  come  from?  ” 

“ A fence,”  replied  Sally,  boldly. 

“ Whose  fence?  ” continued  the  incipient  elder. 
“ Indeed,  then,  how  should  I know,  Reuben 
Hussey?  It’s  round  Seth  Chase’s  lot;  but 
whether  it ’s  Seth’s  fence  or  the  town’s  fence  I 
can’t  tell.  Had  n’t  you  better  step  down  and 
find  out,  while  we  make  the  chowder?” 

But  Reuben  was  not  to  be  put  off  with  any 
impertinent  subterfuge  like  this,  and  having  sat- 
isfied himself  that  the  hen  was  stolen,  delivered 
*■» 

such  a scathing  rebuke  to  the  two  culprits,  with 
a sort  of  codicil  addressed  to  his  betrothed,  that 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


255 


she  subsided  with  tears  and  begged  the  girls  to 
take  themselves  and  the  “ hin  ” away  and  leave 
her  in  peace.  Considerably  discomfited  by  this 
reception,  although  Sally  retorted  upon  Reuben 
with  a fair  show  of  success,  the  two  girls  turned 
away  from  Becky’s  house  and  walked  slowly  back 
toward  Seth  Chase’s  lot;  but  as  they  passed  a 
little  tumble-down  hut  where  a dim  light  showed 
habitation,  Sally  stopped  and  whispered,  — 

“ I don’t  care  a hake’s  head  for  Reub  Hussey, 
and  I won’t  carry  the  old  hin  a step  further. 
I ’m  going  to  give  it  to  old  Granny  Murdoch. 
She  can  cook  it  or  she  can  keep  it,  as  she ’s  o’ 
mind  to  ; but  here  goes.” 

So  saying  the  wild  girl  crept  up  to  the  door, 
softly  raised  the  latch  and  peeped  in.  Granny 
Murdoch  with  her  paralytic  old  husband  sat 
crouching  over  a little  fire,  feebly  gossiping  away 
their  evening,  and  never  noticing  the  opened 
door;  until  Sally  with  a suggestive  crow  flung 
the  hen  high  into  the  air,  whence  it  descended 
with  the  peculiarly  musical  outcry  of  a frightened 
fowl,  while  Sally  and  Betty  rushed  away  in  the 
darkness. 

These  somewhat  dubious  amusements  and  gath- 
erings continued  with  each  successive  “gang” 


256 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


of  young  folks  until  the  boys  were  old  enough 
to  go  to  sea ; and  when  on  his  second  or  third 
voyage  a young  man  sailed  as  harpooner  (or,  as 
it  was  generally  styled,  harpooner),  he  almost 
always  carried  with  him  the  promise  of  one  of 
his  early  playmates  to  become  his  wife  as  soon 
as  he  could  claim  a second-mate's  berth,  and  a 
“lay,” — that  is,  a proportion  of  the  profits  of 
the  voyage.  The  promised  wives  of  these  absent 
lovers  naturally  became  more  sedate  than  the 
unbroken  “ gang”  of  the  earlier  years,  and  their 
meetings  were  devoted  more  to  the  comparing 
of  the  spinning  and  weaving  achieved  toward  the 
trousseau,  or  talking  over  the  latest  news  from 
the  Pacific,  or  some  new  recipe  for  cookery,  or 
at  worst  to  secret  expeditions  to  the  wigwams  of 
the  old  Indian  fortune-tellers  then  extant,  but 
who  after  a while  fell  into  serious  disgrace  and 
trouble  with  the  town  authorities,  who  did  not 
wish  a repetition  of  the  Salem  witchcraft  trials 
upon  their  island. 

But  all  this  order  of  things  underwent  a rapid 
and  total  change  in  the  decay  of  the  whale 
fisheries,  about  1848.  The  men  and  lads  of 
Nantucket  sought  voyages  from  foreign  ports, 
and  in  many  instances  married  and  raised  their 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


257 


families  there  as  well.  California  absorbed  a great 
many,  and  the  war,  as  has  before  been  told,  drew 
away  almost  all  that  was  left  of  the  young  man- 
hood of  Nantucket.  The  girls  no  longer  found 
admirers  or  husbands  among  their  own  kindred, 
for  the  intermarriages  of  two  centuries  had  made 
the  whole  island  cousins,  and  it  had  become  ne- 
cessary to  specify  an  individual  as  “ Paul’s  Han- 
nah,” or  “ Zimri’s  Ned,”  the  family  names  being 
so  universal  as  to  convey  no  distinction  of  per- 
sons. The  choice  seemed  to  be  to  establish  a 
new  community,  like  St.  Ursula’s  eleven  thou- 
sand virgins,  or  to  abrogate  the  unwritten  law 
which  had, 'since  the  settlement  of  the  island,  for- 
bidden a high-caste  Nantucket  maiden  to  marry 
a coof,  no  matter  how  respectable.  The  Nan- 
tucket maidens  chose  the  latter  alternative,  — 
that  is,  generally,  although  some  appear  to  pre- 
fer St.  Ursula;  but  very  many  find  homes  upon 
“ the  continent,”  and  carry  their  sound  health, 
cheerful  spirits,  and  clear  minds  to  vivify  the 
torpid  blood  of  more  luxurious  circles. 

Already  the  old  things  have  passed  away 
from  this  whilom  peculiar  place,  and  the  older 
people  find  no  consolation  in  the  renewal  of 
material  prosperity  brought  by  the  summer 
W 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


258 

visitor  to  Nantucket.  Like  the  impoverished 
noblesse  of  the  Faubourg,  they  make  no  open 
opposition  to  the  Empire  and  its  wealth,  — they 
will  even  treat  it  with  civility,  but  never,  never 
with  cordiality ! 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  interviews  granted 
to  Mysie  was  with  the  last  survivor  of  the 
“ Essex,”  that  famous  whale-ship  which  in  1819 
was  wrecked  by  the  vengeance  of  a whale, — 
the  Von  Winklereid  of  his  people,  since  he  sac- 
rificed his  own  life  to  avenge  its  wrongs.  The 
old  man  told  his  story  in  the  subdued  and  mo- 
notonous tones  of  age,  looking  back  at  its  inci- 
dents across  an  interval  of  sixty  years  filled  with 
events  almost  as  absorbing ; yet  told  it  with  such 
accuracy  of  detail  and  such  personal  reminis- 
cence throughout,  that  one  seemed  to  stand  be- 
side him  on  the  deck  and  watch  that  strange  sea- 
fight,  — see  the  monster  rise,  view  the  ship  with 
his  “ wicked  little  eye/’  and  then  make  straight 
for  her  quarter,  dealing  a blow  that  stove  in 
planks  and  ribs  as  if  they  had  been  an  egg-shell. 

The  skeleton  of  the  story  is,  that  the  “ Essex  ” 
cruising  in  the  South  Sea  sent  out  her  boats 
to  attack  a school  of  whales ; each  boat  se- 
lected one,  as  is  the  custom,  and  were  widely 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


259 


separated,  when  a monstrous  whale,  not  himself 
an  object  of  pursuit,  suddenly  turned  upon  one 
of  the  boats  and  demolished  it  with  a single 
blow.  Leaving  the  wreck  and  the  struggling 
sailors,  most  of  whom  managed  to  keep  afloat 
until  the  other  boats  came  up  and  rescued  them, 
the  whale  made  for  the  ship,  where  the  narrator, 
then  a boy,  remained  on  deck;  after  striking  his 
first  blow,  he  dived,  and  came  up  again  almost 
under  the  bow.  “ If  I ’d  only  had  a lance,  and 
time  to  get  my  wits  about  me,  I could  have 
given  it  him  right  in  the  eye.  I ’ve  always  been 
sorry  that  I had  n’t,”  said  the  old  man,  a spark 
of  the  ancient  fire  gleaming  from  his  own  eyes 
and  his  right  hand  clenching  nervously.  But  it 
was  only  a “ might  have  been,”  and  the  whale, 
sweeping  round  with  a great  curve  to  get  a good 
offing,  came  down  again  upon  the  other  bow  of 
the  devoted  ship,  crushing  in  the  side  and  killing 
himself  with  that  last  terrific  blow.  The  boats, 
already  returning,  reached  the  ship  in  time  to 
save  some  little  provision  and  other  articles  be- 
fore she  sank,  leaving  her  crew  of  twenty  men 
crowded  into  two  little  boats,  with  no  proper 
means  of  navigation,  with  very  slight  provision, 
and  at  an  unknown  distance  from  land. 


260 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  details  of  that  voyage  are  too  terrible  to 
be  lightly  named;  it  lasted  for  three  months, 
and  included  two  thousand  miles  of  space.  One 
after  another  of  the  men  died,  of  exposure,  of 
starvation  and  of  its  direst  resource,  until  at  the 
last,  when  even  the  boy,  who  with  the  tough  elas- 
ticity of  healthy  young  life  had  endured  while 
men  in  the  prime  of  life  died,  had  so  far  lost 
his  senses  that  he  could  not  clearly  remem- 
ber the  incidents  of  his  rescue,  they  drifted 
across  the  track  of  the  only  vessel  they  had  seen, 
were  taken  aboard,  and  nursed  back  to  life  with 
that  tenderness  so  sure  to  be  found  among 
sailors,  and  indeed  among  most  other  brave  and 
simple  men  under  such  circumstances.  Eight  of 
the  twenty  survived  that  three  months’  terror, 
and  in  course  of  time  came  home  to  Nantucket, 
where  they  had  long  been  mourned  as  dead. 
But  the  experience  had  left  its  mark,  and  they 
never  were  the  same  men  again  ; the  captain 
especially,  although  he  lived  for  many  years, 
went  about  as  a man  who  carries  a secret 
burden  which  cannot  be  revealed.  He  never 
spoke  of  the  wreck  of  the  “ Essex  ” himself, 
and  if  others  did  in  his  presence  he  always  rose 
and  left  the  company.  And  in  fact  this  feeling 


REAL  NANTUCKET. 


26l 

was  shared  to  some  extent  by  every  one  of  the 
survivors,  — even  this  the  last  of  all,  who  seldom 
vouchsafes,  they  say,  so  much  of  a story  as  this 
which  he  gave  most  kindly  to  the  stranger,  who 
felt  more  sympathy  for  the  ineffaceable  suffering 
he  so  modestly  narrated  than  she  liked  to  show. 

But  to  repeat  one  tithe  of  all  the  merry,  sad, 
or  wonderful  stories  Nantucket  can  tell  if  she 
will,  is  impossible  in  this  place,  and  we  may  as 
well  stop  here  at  once.  Many  have  tried  to  con- 
serve these  legends  in  various  forms,  and  with 
varying  success ; for  it  is  very  difficult,  even 
though  one  set  down  the  exa£t  words  of  the 
narration  (and  this  would  be  in  itself  a breach 
of  confidence),  to  inspire  them  with  that  piquant 
flavor  of  personal  experience,  or  that  keen 
relish  of  ancestral  association  which  animates 
a true  Nantucket  “ yarn  ” from  the  lips  of  a 
Nantucket  narrator.  After  all,  like  the  most 
luscious  of  fruits,  or  the  most  suggestive  of  wines, 
or  the  ideal  of  teas,  they  must  be  enjoyed  where 
they  are  grown,  for  they  will  not  endure  trans- 
portation without  such  loss  as  deprives  them  of 
their  value  ; and  stay-at-home  travellers  must  be 
content  to  know  that  such  things  are^-and  that  in 
some  happy  future  they  too  may  enjoy  them. 


SCRAP  III. 


THE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION. 

BOUT  the  middle  of  November  a tre- 
mendous easterly  storm,  with  enough 
southing  in  it  to  bring  the  surf  in 
splendidly  all  along  the  South  Shore,  raged  for 
two  or  three  days,  and  in  the  end  of  it  some 
kind  friends  proposed  to  take  Mysie  over  to  see 
the  breakers.  Dionis,  as  has  been  said,  had  re- 
tired to  nurse  her  asthma  and  her  temper  in  the 
engine-house  for  six  months  or  so,  and  the  island 
had  comfortably  returned  to  its  time-honored 
modes  of  conveyance,  represented  on  this  occa- 
sion by  Deacon  Folger’s  spirited  brown  horse,  a 
nice  carry-all,  and  plenty  of  robes,  — for  already 
the  air  upon  the  moors  had  all  the  savage  nip 
of  December  in  its  teeth,  and  the  best  armor 
wherewith  to  meet  it  might  be  the  wadded  suits  of 
the  poor  Aztecs  at  whose  battle  array  of  “ polka 
jackets  ” one  sadly  smiles,  remembering  the  end. 
The  wind  blew  rough  yet  merry  defiance,  and 


THE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION. 


263 


the  sun  gleamed  out  as  it  could  from  the  wild 
scurry  of  clouds  driven  about  by  ^Eolus  very 
much  as  a wicked  dog  drives  a flock  of  sheep ; 
the  good  brown  horse  pricked  up  his  ears  and 
whinnied  appreciation  of  the  fun,  the  carriage 
rocked  and  bounded  across  the  frozen  ruts,  the 
three  women  laughed  and  chattered,  and  the  one 
man  instructed  and  corrected  them  in  manly 
wont:  altogether  it  was  a very  pleasant  time 

both  in  passing,  and  in  memory. 

The  Life-saving  Station  is  a place  of  mys- 
tery and  speculation  to  the  summer  visitor, 
who  never  sees  it  inhabited  or  in  use,  such 
persons  as  choose  to  wreck  themselves  in  sum- 
mer being  attended  to  by  volunteer  life-pre- 
servers ; but  it  was  now  open,  and  quite  ready 
to  save  as  many  lives  under  as  difficult  cir- 
cumstances as  could  be  devised.  The  party 
in  the  carry-all  considered  their  lives,  or  at 
any  rate  their  heads,  in  danger  from  cold  and 
high  wind,  and  so  drove  boldly  up  to  the  door, 
tied  and  blanketed  the  brown  horse,  and  un- 
packed themselves.  During  this  process  the  door 
opened,  and  a good-natured  giant  standing  upon 
the  threshold  gazed  silently  upon  the*invaders. 

“ May  we  come  in  and  warm  ourselves  a 


264 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


little ?”  asked  the  most  daring  of  the  women, 
their  escort  being  obscured  by  the  tossing  head 
of  the  horse. 

“ Why,  cer-tainly  you  may  ! Come  right  in  ! ” 
replied  the  giant,  evidently  considering  the  que- 
ry to  convey  doubt  of  the  Station’s  hospitality. 
Coming  right  in,  the  party  found  themselves 
in  a cheery  sort  of  place,  evidently  kitchen 
and  parlor  and  hall  in  one.  A cooking-stove 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  a sugges- 
tive odor  of  coffee  and  something  of  a fried 
nature  hung  about  the  walls,  inducing  Mysie  to 
think  affectionately  of  tea-time  and  blue-fish  in 
the  near  distance.  Five  or  six  men  out  of  the 
eight  belonging  to  the  place  were  seated  about 
the  room,  and  all  rising  with  the  almost  invaria- 
ble courtesy  of  American  men  to  women  brought 
forward  their  chairs,  made  up  the  fire,  suggested 
that  the  ladies  should  put  their  feet  in  the  oven, 
and  finally  slid  out  of  the  door  in  an  accidental  sort 
of  way,  leaving  one  very  pleasant  and  intelligent 
man  to  do  the  honors  of  the  place,  and  another 
who  after  a pause  calmly  went  on  with  his  domes- 
tic labors,  too  much  of  a man  to  be  ashamed 
of  doing  woman’s  work  when  required. 

While  enjoying  the  warmth  and  rest,  the  visi- 


TIIE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION.  265 


tors  gleaned  from  their  host  some  interesting 
details  of  the  life  here.  A hard  one  he  did  not 
deny,  and  a monotonous  one,  and  yet  not  with- 
out its  attractions  to  a hardy  man  whose  interests 
and  associations  are  all  of  the  sea.  The  day- 
duties  are  not  laborious,  consisting  only  of  keep- 
ing the  apparatus  in  perfect  order  and  readiness 
for  immediate  use,  and  in  maintaining  that  clean- 
liness and  tidiness  quite  characteristic  of  the 
dwellings  of  men  without  women,  — as  ships, 
light-houses,  barracks,  and  prisons.  There  is 
never  much  grace  or  daintiness  in  these  places 
to  be  sure,  but  they  are  usually  wonderfully 
clean,  and,  as  the  English  say,  “ done  up.” 

But  at  sunset  the  life-saving  station-men’s 
real  duty  begins.  Two  start  out  in  opposite 
directions  and  patrol  the  beach  for  a distance 
of  three  miles,  looking  and  listening  for  signals 
of  distress  at  sea  or  any  possibly  shipwrecked 
mariner  on  shore ; returning  to  the  house,  this 
pair  of  patrols  is  relieved  by  another,  and  they 
by  a third,  — so  that  for  a distance  of  six  miles 
along  that  dangerous  coast  there  are  two  men 
upon  the  beach  from  sunset  to  sunrise,  all 
vigilance  and  courage  for  whatever  danger  may 
appear.  Sometimes  of  course  this  is  no  hard- 


266 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


ship,  except  the  loss  of  sleep;  but  sometimes 
again  it  is  a close  hand-to-hand  tussle  with  such 
cold  and  storm  and  blinding  snow  as  have  con- 
quered many  a man  strong  and  brave  as  these. 
Sometimes  the  wind  sweeping  along  the  beach 
gathers  up  the  frosty  sand  and  hurls  it  in  the 
face  of  the  struggling  man  so  violently  and  con- 
tinuously as  to  cut  through  the  skin  and  draw 
blood ; often  he  must  close  his  eyes  lest  they 
be  blinded,  and  sometimes  turn  his  back  for 
a moment  lest  he  be  suffocated : one  thing 
he  must  not  do  and  never  does,  and  that  is 
to  desert  his  post,  or  fail  to  accomplish  his 
beat. 

“ A man  should  be  well  paid  for  work  like 
that,”  remarked  the  gentleman  of  the  party. 

“ We  have  four  hundred  dollars  and  our  keep,” 
replied  the  guard,  quietly.  Mysie  thought  of 
men  she  knows  who  receive  two  and  three  thou- 
sand dollars  per  annum  from  Government  for 
coiling  and  uncoiling  red  tape  in  luxurious 
offices  for  a few  hours  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
and  felt  an  enormous  respect  for  this  brave, 
uncomplaining,  ill-paid  man.  At  sunrise  the 
patrol  duty  is  over,  and  until  sunset  is  substi- 
tuted by  a look-out  man  in  the  “walk”  at  the 


THE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION.  267 

top  of  the  house.  With  a glass  he  can  from  his 
elevated  station  sweep  a wider  expanse  of  ocean 
than  a boat  could  reach,  and  it  is  not  necessary 
to  be  “ on  deck  ” every  moment;  so  this  part 
of  the  duty  is  not  very  uncomfortable,  although 
Mysie  and  her  friends  were  satisfied  with  quite 
a brief  inspection  of  this  airy  locality.  From 
the  “walk,”  the  steep  stairway  descends  into  the 
dormitory,  where  the  eight  men  enjoy  their 
broken  slumbers,  and  where  are  stored  cables, 
life-lines,  signals,  and  other  paraphernalia  of 
the  service.  Among  other  things  Mysie  was 
interested  in  a board  bearing  an  inscription  on 
both  sides,  the  one  in  French,  the  other  in  Eng- 
lish, directing  whoever  should  read  it  how  to 
manage  the  cable  to  which  this  board  would  be 
attached,  by  means  of  a smaller  line  which  was 
to  be  shot  out  over  the  wreck  from  one  of  the 
mortars  below  stairs.  Of  course,  viewing  the 
matter  argumentatively,  a French  mariner  would 
be  more  likely  to  read  French  than  any  other 
language  with  ease ; and  yet  the  instinct  of  an 
Anglo-Saxon  is  to  wonder  that  a man  in  peril 
of  his  life  should  pause  to  attend  to  polite  lit- 
erature ! Another  objection  to  the  board  arose 
in  Mysie’s  mind,  and  she  uttered  it  aloud : — 


268 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ Suppose  the  wreck  were  a German  vessel,  as 
so  many  of  your  wrecks  have  been,  and  nobody 
on  board  could  read  either  English  or  French?” 
“ That  would  be  bad,”  replied  the  guard,  con- 
templating the  bit  of  plank  seriously  on  both 
sides.  “ It's  a pity  it  has  n’t  three  sides  to  it; 
but  that’s  hardly  to  be  expected.” 

Going  downstairs  again,  the  visitors  passed 
from  the  living  room  into  the  largest  and  most 
important  room  of  the  house,  fitted  with  wide 
rolling  doors  looking  upon  the  sea,  — for  here 
are  arranged  in  perfect  order  and  readiness  the 
life-boats  on  their  carriages,  the  mortar  for  shoot- 
ing a line  across  a wreck,  cables,  coils  of  rope, 
two  or  three  kinds  of  life-cars  and  slings  fitted  to 
traverse  a hempen  bridge  from  the  wreck  to  the 
shore,  rockets  and  blue-lights  for  signals,  in  fact 
everything  that  philanthropic  science  and  inge- 
nuity have  invented  for  this  service.  It  was  a 
beautiful  and  hopeful  sight  in  all  its  details,  — the 
eight  powerful  and  quiet  men,  the  sturdy  house 
with  its  firm  hold  upon  that  wind-lashed  head- 
land, and  the  complete  yet  simple  parapherna- 
lia of  their  duty.  Nor  do  these  preparations  at 
all  come  into  the  list  of  charming  possibilities 
never  reduced  to  certainty,  by  which  the  present 


TIIE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION 


269 


inventive  century  is  overloaded.  The  records 
of  Nantucket  make  mention  of  something  over 
live  hundred  wrecks  upon  her  stormy  coasts, 
and  indeed  a careful  circumnavigation  of  the 
island  shows  her  surrounded  by  the  bleaching 
bones  of  her  slain,  even  as  the  fair  palaces  of 
the  ogres  of  our  childhood’s  lore  were  at  once  a 
temptation  and  a warning  to  the  prince-errant. 
Very  few  of  these  wrecks,  however,  have  suffered 
unaided,  and  although  hundreds  of  lives  have 
been  lost,  hundreds  more  have  been  saved, 
and  often  at  greatest  peril  to  the  rescuers,  who 
have  more  than  once  or  twice  laid  down  their 
own  lives  for  their  brothers.  This  is  a large 
and  most  thrilling  history,  and  well  worthy  the 
research  of  various  classes  of  students ; for  here 
are  combined  history,  romance,  the  study  of 
noble  human  nature,  and  of  that  nobler,  super- 
human nature,  wherein  man  by  self-sacrifice  be- 
comes united  in  Christ  to  God. 

These  stories  cannot  here  be  repeated,  but 
beside  the  living  and  generally  too  modest  actors 
in  these  scenes  there  are  several  records,  such 
as  “ A List  of  the  Wrecks  around  Nantucket,” 
by  A.  H.  Gardner,  and  a brief  chapter  in  God- 
frey’s “ Nantucket  Guide,”  an  excellent  little 


270 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


resum6  of  the  history  and  attractions  of  the  isl- 
and, published  in  1882,  besides  Obed  Macy’s 
“ History  of  Nantucket,”  a somewhat  antiquated 
but  careful  and  reliable  work  not  yet  superseded 
by  anything  newer. 

Mr.  Godfrey  prints  in  his  “ Guide  ” a letter 
from  Captain  John  Niven,  of  the  ship  “ Earl  of 
Eglinton,”  wrecked  off  Tom  Never’s  Head  in 
1846,  giving  a minute  account  of  the  catastrophe, 
and  almost  incomparable  for  its  simple  elo- 
quence, modest  bravery,  and  wonderful  realism ; 
after  reading  it  one  really  tastes  the  salt  upon 
one’s  lips,  and  feels  exhausted  with  the  fearful 
struggle.  One  sentence  is  so  quaint  that  it  shall 
be  quoted : “ The  last  person,”  and  this  was  the 
captain  himself,  although  he  does  not  say  it, 
“ coming  on  the  running  bowline  nearly  lost  his 
life,  the  sling  parting  and  dropping  him  in  the 
surf.  But  one  gentleman  added  another  to  his 
humane  attributes  by  perilling  his  life  to  save 
that  of  another;  so  that  finally,  more  dead  than 
alive,  and  with  reason  for  the  time  taking  a re- 
cess, the  half-drowned  man  was  landed.” 

The  hero  who  thus  offered  his  life  to  save  that 
of  a stranger,  — and  if  “ gentleman”  means  the 
highest  development  of  man,  let  us  call  him  gen- 


TIIE  LIFE-SAVING  STATION 


271 


tleman, — was  Captain  Matthew  Crosby,  since 
gone  to  his  reward,  with  this  deed  but  one.  of 
many  similar  glittering  upon  his  record.  “ Ev- 
ery one  loves  a lover,”  may  be ; but,  oh,  every 
one  exults  in  a hero,  and  is  proud  of  the  com- 
mon tie  of  humanity ! 

After  this,  the  little  party  went  down  upon  the 
sands  to  watch  the  surf,  really  wonderful  in  its 
height  and  force,  while  the  whole  sea  beyond 
was  white  with  the  tossing  manes  of  the  war- 
horses  ; and  out  on  the  Rips  the  spray  leaped  up 
and  fell  again  in  a cataract  of  splendor,  as  the 
sun  gleaming  out  between  angry  black  clouds 
shot  his  arrows  through  and  through  the  fall- 
ing prisms,  and  nearer  at  hand  burnished  the 
concave  of  each  arching  breaker  with  a golden 
sheen  too  dazzling  to  contemplate. 

What  a pity  such  pictures  can  never  be  copied 
upon  canvas  ! 


SCRAP  IV. 

SCONSET  FROM  THE  INSIDE.  — WHALES  AND 
CAMELS. 

HE  wind  which  produced  such  sublime 
effects  of  sea  and  sky  scenery  also 
brought  in  the  cod,  and  news  came  from 
Sconset  that  the  fishing  had  begun.  Now  was 
the  time  for  that  reality  of  Sconset  which  Mysie 
had  vainly  sought  under  the  superincumbent 
mass  of  Summer  Visitor,  and  she  accordingly 
petitioned  her  friends  to  take  her  over  to  Scon- 
set and  drop  her  there,  quite  irrespective  of  their 
own  ideas  of  advisability  and  comfort.  They 
complied ; and  again  the  brown  horse  and  the 
carry-all  of  furs  and  femininity  rattled  and  rocked 
across  the  frozen  moors,  and  driving  into  Scon- 
set drew  up  near  the  pump,  which  makes  the 
centre  of  the  town.  “ First  tableau  of  the  De- 
serted Village,”  remarked  one  of  the  party 
drearily;  but  Mysie  saw  the  beginning  of  the 
fulfilment  of  her  dream,  and  exulted  in  spirit. 


SC  ONSET  FROM  TIIE  INSIDE. 


273 


“ Not  a flounce,  or  a furbelow,  or  a seaside 
costume,  or  a yachting  dress,  or  anything  got  up 
for  marine  effect,  — not  even  a bathing-house,  or 
awning,  or  hammock  to  be  seen  ! ” exclaimed 
she  blithely ; “ actually  the  plank  walk  across 
the  sands  is  taken  up,  and  the  bathing-line  has 
disappeared  ! ” 

“ I should  so  remark ! ” replied  the  masculine 
element  of  the  group.  “ Not  many  people  would 
care  to  venture  into  that  surf,  especially  in  this 
temperature.” 

“ Nobody,  I should  think/’  replied  Mysie  with 
much  satisfaction.  “ Now  the  next  thing  is  to 
find  me  a shelter.” 

It  is  a poor  rule  that  won’t  work  both  ways, 
and  the  winter  rule  of  Sconset  is  a very  good  rule, 
and  it  does  work  both  ways,  as  Mysie  now  dis- 
covered ; for  while  in  summer  two  large  hotels 
and  nearly  all  the  cottages  of  the  hamlet  are  of- 
fered to  the  public  not  only  willingly  but  eagerly, 
in  the  winter  it  is  all  but  impossible  for  an  unfor- 
tunate coof  to  find  shelter  or  welcome.  The  hotels 
are  closed,  the  families  who  took  boarders  have 
either  gone  “ to  town  ” for  their  own  recreation, 
or  are  resting  from  their  labors  and  annoyances, 
and  loathe  the  face  of  a summer  visitor;  the 
18 


274 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


fishermen  who  let  their  cottages  during  the  hot 
weather  have  now  resumed  them,  and  wish  for  no 
intrusion  on  their  privacy ; the  private  cottages 
belonging  to  down-town  aristocrats  are  closed, 
and  although  one  might  be  borrowed  in  the  time- 
honored  neighborly  fashion  of  Nantucket,  it  is 
not  a thing  to  be  done  in  a moment.  The  appli- 
cations at  house  after  house  met  with  but  one 
answer,  “ No,”  variously  expressed,  but  however 
softly  always  immovably.  One  charming  old  pa- 
triarch, evidently  moved  to  pity  by  Mysie’s  for- 
lorn appearance,  thought  his  daughter  might  con- 
sent to  receive  her,  and  pending  the  daughter’s 
return  from  town  showed  her  the  quaint  and  most 
attractive  interior  of  his  cottage ; but  when  the 
daughter  returned  it  was  to  repeat  the  village  re- 
frain of  No,  no,  no  ! adding  with  some  asperity, 
that  she  should  have  supposed  her  father  would 
have  known  better  than  to  encourage  any  such 
idea.  The  patriarch,  rather  dashed,  here  sug- 
gested a possible  refuge ; and  the  daughter  seizing 
upon  this  as  a happy  escape  added  her  hearty 
recommendation.  So,  with  rather  a drooping 
crest,  for  really  this  was  the  very  last  hope  left 
in  Sconset,  Mysie,  followed  by  her  merry  friends, 
who  had  all  along  prophesied  that  she  would 


SCONSE  T FROM  T1IE  INSIDE. 


275 


have  to  go  back  to  town  discomfited,  knocked 
at  the  side-door  of  a large  house  built  by  one  of 
the  magnates  of  the  whaling  era  for  a country 
villa,  and  now  the  property  of  the  most  purely 
representative  Nantucket  man  left  on  the  island. 
The  door  was  opened  by  a fair-faced,  kindly 
woman,  who,  after  hearing  the  stereotyped  re- 
quest for  a few  days’  hospitality,  considered  the 
applicant  in  meditative  silence  for  a moment, 
and  then  said  pleasantly : “ Why,  yes,  you  can 
stay,  if  you  want  to;  it  don’t  seem  just  right 
that  any  one  should  go  away  and  say  there 
was  n’t  a single  house  in  Sconset  where  they 
could  get  a night’s  lodging.” 

Chanting  paeans  of  triumph  in  her  heart, 
Mysie  received  her  bag  from  the  carriage,  bade 
good-by  to  her  companions,  and  entering  the 
house  begged  leave  to  sit  beside  the  kitchen 
stove  while  her  hostess  prepared  the  evening 
meal,  and  discoursed  most  pleasantly  upon 
Sconset  life  and  experiences.  An  island  woman 
of  the  Folger  stock,  and  married  to  a Coffin, 
she  had  passed  most  of  her  life  at  Sconset,  and 
was  certainly  one  of  the  best  possible  exponents 
of  its  character.  From  her  Mysie  learned  that 
a few  families,  not  more  than  half-a-dozen  gener- 


276 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


ally,  consider  Sconset  their  settled  home,  winter 
and  summer,  and  cultivate  among  themselves 
those  neighborhood  interests,  amusements,  and 
kindly  services  which  are  so  much  stronger  in 
small  communities  than  in  large  ones.  Was 
it  very  lonely  in  the  depths  of  winter?  Oh, 
no,  there  was  seldom  weather  when  the  women 
could  not  run  over  to  each  other’s  houses,  and 
somebody  or  other  would  go  down  town  two  or 
three  times  a week  and  get  the  newspapers  and 
the  letters,  if  there  were  any;  and  there  was 
always  plenty  of  work  to  do,  and  some  reading 
and'music  and  games  of  one  sort  and  another, 
so  it  was  n’t  lonesome.  A school-mistress  is 
provided  by  the  town,  and  a little  flock  of  girls 
and  boys  of  all  ages  is  gathered  in  the  weather- 
beaten school-house,  whose  one  room  also  serves 
as  church,  lecture-hall,  and  concert-room  when 
such  rare  diversions  as  lecture  or  concert  are 
offered  to  Sconset.  There  is  no  resident  min- 
ister, any  more  than  doctor  or  lawyer ; so  reli- 
gious services  are  rare  and  promiscuous  during 
the  winter,  and  Sconset  folk  seem  beautifully  re- 
signed to  the  deprivation.  The  want  of  a lawyer 
has  probably  been  still  less  felt,  — Mysie  herself, 
as  will  be  shown,  being  the  only  person  on  record 


SC  ONSET  FROM  THE  INSIDE . 277 

who  felt  it  a necessity  to  reach  one  without  delay ; 
and  as  for  a doctor,  when  Sconset  people  wish 
to  die  they  have  to  go  down  town,  disease  and 
decay  fleeing  from  the  strong  salt  breeze,  active 
exercise,  and  “ early  bed  ” pervading  Sconset. 
However,  there  are  occasions  when  a doctor  is 
considered  desirable ; and  one  old  lady  told  My- 
sie  a most  picturesque  story  of  her  husband’s 
setting  out  in  the  fury  of  a northeast  storm  in 
the  depth  of  winter  and  of  night,  to  fetch  a 
doctor.  She  tied  down  his  hat  herself  with  a 
big  bandanna  handkerchief,  and  she  saw  that 
his  great-coat  was  buttoned  and  his  good  yarn 
mittens  upon  his  hands ; but  for  all  that,  it  was 
with  a quaking  heart  that  she  heard  him  drive 
away,  even  the  old  horse  rebelling  against  such 
an  expedition.  The  goodman  soon  lost  the 
road,  and  this  was  before  the  modern  landmarks 
had  been  established ; so  the  old  horse  and  he 
bumped  about  upon  the  moors  a pretty  while, 
only  knowing  they  were  in  a road  when  the  in- 
creased bumping  suggested  ruts,  until  at  last 
after  several  hours  the  sailor  catching  sight  of 
Brant  Point  Light,  and  having  Sankaty  Light 
on  his  weather  beam,  steered  his  way  into  town 
and  arrived  there  quite  independently  of  any 


278 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


other  man’s  course.  The  gray  dawn  helped  the 
return  voyage,  but  by  the  time  the  doctor  ar- 
rived the  invalid  -had  been  so  much  benefited  by 
kindly  neighbors  as  not  to  need  his  services. 

Darkness  fell  long  before  Mysie  had  exhausted 
her  companion’s  fund  of  information,  the  lamps 
were  lighted,  and  Mamie  — a shy,  sweet  child  of 
ten  breezy  summers  — came  in,  and  at  once  made 
friends  with  her  future  godmother,  who  found 
her  a most  useful  little  guide  and  companion  in 
the  ensuing  days. 

Then  came  the  cosey  tea-time,  and  then  My- 
sie, relegated  to  the  sitting-room,  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  her  host,  — a Coffin  of  the  pure 
blood;  a strong  shoot  from  the  hardy  old  Nan- 
tucket stock  of  fearless,  powerful,  and  modest 
men,  who  have  left  their  heroic  record  in  every 
quarter  of  the  world. 

From  him  she  heard  many  marvellous  tales 
of  wreck  and  storm  upon  this  southern  shore, 
— adventures  “ all  of  which  he  saw,  and  much  of 
which  he  was,”  and  yet  told  in  the  quiet  and 
reserved  fashion  of  a man  who  would  fain  give 
the  story  fully,  and  yet  suppress  his  own  share 
of  it. 

Among  these  tales  was  one  of  the  great 


SCONSET  FROM  THE  INSIDE. 


279 


steamship  “ City  of  Glasgow/’  which  after  a 
stormy  passage  ran  short  of  coal,  and  lying  to 
off  Sconset  sent  a boat  ashore  requesting  a 
supply  of  a hundred  tons.  Naturally  Sconset  is 
not  provided  with  a coal-yard,  as  no  vessel  that 
could  possibly  do  anything  else  would  think  of 
demanding  coal  there;  but  the  “City  of  Glas- 
gow,” requiring  ten  tons  even  to  start  a fire  un- 
der her  boilers,  had  no  choice  but  to  lie  there 
until  the  ten  tons  could  be  furnished.  To  com- 
plicate the  matter,  this  was  just  the  period  of 
one  of  the  heaviest  falls  of  snow  recorded  of 
Nantucket,  and  the  seven-and-a-half  miles  be- 
tween Sconset  and  town  were  buried  in  drifts 
ten  and  twelve  feet  deep.  This  in  a sledging 
country  would  not  have  mattered,  but  Nantucket 
travels  on  wheels,  seldom  having  occasion  for 
runners,  and  the  hundred  tons  of  coal  demanded 
had  to  be  carted  from  town.  The  first  thing, 
therefore,  was  to  dig  down  to  terra  firma  and 
make  a road,  and  this  was  done  rapidly  and  well ; 
then  the  procession  of  little  carts  began,  and  the 
hundred  tons  of  coal  were  in  due  time  at  the 
edge  of  the  surf.  But  the  “ City  of  Glasgow  ” 
lay  almost  a mile  outside,  and  barges  stanch 
enough  to  reach  her  drew  too  much  water  to 


280 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


come  within  several  rods  of  the  shore ; so  the 
coal  must  be  taken  off  to  them  in  the  little  fish- 
ing-boats and  dories  which  slide  so  deftly  up 
the  beach,  but  which  hold  so  small  a cargo. 
Thus  the  shipping  of  the  hundred  tons  was  not 
the  least  part  of  the  work,  and  the  men  worked 
waist-deep  in  the  icy  water,  and  thought  less  of 
it  than  other  men  do  of  dampening  their  feet. 
At  last  all  was  aboard,  the  captain  of  the  “ Glas- 
gow” paid  the  price  of  his  coal,  with  ten  dol- 
lars per  ton  for  teaming,  and  went  his  way  to 
New  York,  a sadder  and  a wiser  man. 

After  this  there  were  Californian  experiences 
to  tell,  and  some  stories  of  the  war  and  other 
adventures,  until  Mysie  felt  a mental  indigestion 
coming  on,  and,  as  her  hostess  advised,  took  an 
early  bed,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  the  hardy  ex- 
plorer. 

Early  the  next  morning,  with  Mamie  as  com- 
panion and  guide,  she  went  down  to  the  beach 
to  see  the  fishing-boats  start  off.  The  season 
had  not  opened  well,  and  many  of  the  fishermen 
did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  go  out ; but  there 
were  some  twelve  or  fifteen  boats  drawn  up  at 
the  water’s  edge,  their  noses  pointed  seaward, 
their  sharp,  narrow  frames  promising  speed, 


COD,  WIIALES,  AND  CAMELS. 


28l 


their  deep  keels  stanchness,  their  tackle  and 
bait  ready  at  hand,  their  crews  of  one  or  two 
men  grimly  cheerful  in  the  prospect  of  four  or 
five  hours  of  cold,  wet,  and  the  horrible  roll  of  a 
boat  anchored  or  lying-to  in  a heavy  sea.  The 
boats  off,  Mysie  turned  to  watch  a sort  of  Tri- 
ton gathering  kelp  and  loading  it  into  a one- 
wheeled conveyance  very  like  a cart-body 
mounted  upon  a flour-barrel,  — a wheel  cer- 
tainly better  adapted  for  a soft,  sandy  beach 
than  the  ordinary  make. 

Some  children  with  baskets  came  scurrying 
down  before  the  wind  like  a flock  of  sand- 
peeps,  and  began  to  pick  up  the  carrageen  ly- 
ing abundantly  along  the  beach.  “ Unlimited 
blanc-mange  ! ‘ I would  not  live  alway  ’ in  Scon- 
set, n remarked  Mysie,  confidentially  to  herself; 
but  the  little  maids  evidently  did  not  share  her 
aversion  to  this  innocent  comestible,  for  they 
were  comparing  notes  of  how  much  each  one 
could  and  did  eat  at  a sitting  whenever  the 
opportunity  occurred. 

Walking  briskly  across  the  beach  and  up 
through  the  village, — for  spite  of  heavy  ulster 
and  many  wraps  the  cold  was  very  cruel,  — My- 
sie found  her  host,  and  gained  much  information 


28  2 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


about  the  fishing.  The  spring  fishing-season 
comprises  April  and  May;  the  autumn,  Novem- 
ber and  part  of  December,  and  varies  in  profit 
year  by  year.  The  one  or  two  men  who  man 
each  boat  expect  in  a “ decently  good  time  ” to 
take  from  ten  or  fifteen  up  to  a hundred  or  even 
more  fish,  — cod  if  possible,  hake  and  haddock 
as  a second  choice.  On  one  occasion  three  men 
brought  in  six  hundred  fish,  and  it  was  necessary 
that  every  one  should  be  cleaned  and  salted  be- 
fore morning;  the  men  worked  all  night  until, 
as  the  narrator  said,  he  went  to  sleep  standing 
at  his.  bench,  — but  the  work  was  done,  and  well 
done. 

There  is  a prejudice  in  the  fastidious  yet  un- 
enlightened mind  against  salt  codfish  as  an  arti- 
cle of  diet.  Mysie  confesses  to  having  lived 
under  the  shadow  of  this  prejudice,  and  is  not 
pleased  when  her  friends  in  other  cities  mention 
codfish  as  Boston's  usual  diet;  but  she  hereby 
confesses  that  there  is  codfish  and  codfish,  and 
that  Sconset  codfish  properly  cooked  are  a very 
different  article  from  what  one  encounters  in 
our  rural  districts  for  instance,  or  sometimes  in 
a city  boarding-house. 

These  Sconset  fish  are  a most  elaborate  con- 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS . 283 

fection,  and  worthily  command  a higher  price 
at  wholesale  than  the  ordinary  “ Banks  ” fish  at 
minutest  retail. 

The  former  are  no  sooner  brought  ashore  than 
they  are  taken  to  the  fish-houses,  — odorous 
temples  at  the  head  of  the  beach,  — and  are  at 
once  split,  cleaned,  and  deprived  of  half  their 
backbone  to  facilitate  a more  rapid  drying; 
they  are  then  washed  through  two  waters,  the 
black  skin  of  the  nape  taken  off,  when  they  are 
salted  and  piled  in  a kench,  heads  and  tails. 
This  kench  is  a peculiarly  shaped  pile  of  fish 
upon  a platform  elevated  a foot  or  so  from  the 
ground.  Here  they  remain  from  four  to  eight 
days  to  drain  off  what  is  called  the  “ bitter 
water,”  or  natural  juices  of  the  fish.  Each  fish 
is  then  well  scrubbed  on  both  sides  with  a brush, 
and  if  the  sun  is  bright  they  are  laid  out  upon 
the  fish-flakes  to  dry  for  a day ; next  they  are 
piled  in  kench  for  another  day,  and  so  go 
through  an  alternation  of  flakes  and  kench  until 
they  take  on  a certain  mealy  or  floury  appear- 
ance, when  they  are  fit  to  store  in  a dry  place 
and  become  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  their  kind. 

The  ordinary  salt  codfish  prepared  by  the 
Cape  Cod  fishermen  are  caught  upon  the  Banks 


284 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


from  schooners  fitted  out  for  the  purpose.  The 
fish  as  soon  as  caught  are  split,  cleaned,  and 
thrown  into  the  hold,  where  they  are  piled  upon 
forms  and  salted,  one  tier  after  another,  until  the 
hold  is  full.  The  schooners  are  often  out  for 
weeks,  and  the  condition  of  the  lower  layers  of 
fish  need  not  be  enlarged  upon.  Arrived  in  port, 
the  fish  are  pitched  into  a car  alongside,  and 
scrubbed  promiscuously  with  a broom ; they  are 
then  pitchforked  ashore  and  dried  in  a stack. 

But,  alas ! how  is  the  fish-ball  consumer  ever 
to  know  if  his  codfish  was  a Banker  or  a Scon 
seter ! 

After  dinner,  in  pursuance  of  her  determina- 
tion to  know  the  Sconset  people,  Mysie  made 
some  calls,  — - one  upon  a cheery  old  whaling- 
captain  who  showed  her  the  picture  of  his 
former  vessel,  with  all  the  pride  of  a fond 
mother  showing  the  portrait  of  “ the  most  re- 
markable child,  as  everybody  says,  that  they 
have  ever  seen.”  The  adventures  connected 
with  this  vessel  were  even  more  interesting 
than  itself ; and  the  old  captain,  at  Mysie’s  re- 
quest, went  through  the  whole  process  of  captur- 
ing a whale,  from  the  “ There  she  spouts  ! ” of  the 
lookout  man  in  the  crow’s-nest,  to  the  cutting 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS 


285 


in  the  blubber  and  trying  out  the  oil.  There  is 
a popular  tradition  that  whale-men  in  the  dearth 
of  fresh  meat  at  sea  are  fond  of  eating  the 
brown  morsels  or  “ scraps  ” of  the  blubber  after 
the  oil  has  been  thoroughly  extracted ; and 
hence  their  jealous  neighbors  and  rivals,  the 
Cape-Coders,  gave  them  the  name  of  Nantucket 
“ Scrap-eaters,”  or  Nantucket  “Scraps,” 1 — an  ap- 
pellation answering  to  “ Yankee/’  or  “ Hoosier,” 
or  “ Buckeye,”  or  any  of  the  rest  of  those  playful 
nicknames  by  which  Uncle  Sam’s  big  boys  love 
to  tease  each  other,  all  in  love  and  good-will. 
Some  of  the  Nantucketers  deny  the  taste  for  this 
luxury,  and,  if  one  may  quote  from  a popular 
author,  “ deny  the  allegation  and  scorn  the  alle- 
gator ; ” but  others  confess  it,  — and  one  frank 
and  genial  gentleman,  not  now  resident  upon 
the  island,  assured  Mysie  that  he  with  the  other 
school-boys  of  his  day  thought  it  a great  treat 
to  provide  themselves  with  plenty  of  sea-biscuit, 
and  going  down  to  the  try-works  when  some 
good  fresh  blubber  had  been  brought  ashore, 
beg  the  scraps  as  they  were  skimmed  out. 
“ Yes,  indeed,  many ’s  the  good  lunch  I ’ve  made 

1 The  intelligent  reader  may  hereby  gain  a new  conception 
of  the  title  of  this  humble  work. 


286 


NA  NTU CK E T SCRAPS. 


that  way ! I wish  I had  the  appetite  and  the 
digestion  for  it  now,”  said  the  senor,  sadly,  as 
he  finished  the  story. 

From  the  captain’s,  Mysie  went  to  see  an  aged 
couple,  claiming  to  be,  with  one  exception,  the 
oldest  permanent  residents  of  Sconset.  The 
husband,  a sailor  from  his  boyhood,  had  seen 
and  made  intelligent  acquaintance  with  the 
scenes  and  the  dangers  of  almost  every  quarter 
of  the  globe.  He  talked  freely,  and  gave  a vivid 
account  of  his  boyish  longings  for  the  sea, 
sternly  repressed  by  his  father,  who  wanted  his 
services  on  the  meagre  farm  they  cultivated 
here  at  Sconset. 

At  length  one  day,  as  he  and  his  father  were 
cutting  peat  in  a deep  bog-hole,  the  boy’s  desire 
took  the  form  of  a resolution ; and  without  any 
explanation  of  his  intentions  he  clambered  out 
of  the  hole,  struck  straight  out  across  the  moors 
for  town,  and  finding  a whaler  just  ready  to  sail 
went  to  the  office  and  enrolled  himself  as  “boy,” 
coloring  the  story  of  his  leaving  home  to  suit 
the  taste  of  the  owners.  So  soon  as  his  name 
was  down  he  went  aboard,  and  with  a boy’s  far- 
seeing  wisdom  considered  the  thing  finished. 
The  father  coming  home  to  supper  and  finding 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


287 


Valentine  missing,  was  at  no  loss  to  conjecture 
what  had  become  of  him,  and  next  morning 
arrived  on  the  scene  of  action.  Like  a sensible 
man,  however,  he  concluded  that  what  was  to 
be,  might  as  well  be  sooner  as  later,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  supply  the  runaway  with  a “ kit  ” 
and  all  those  comforts  and  even  necessities  of 
which  he  had  not  thought.  The  fathers  parting 
words  partook,  however,  more  of  paternal  stern- 
ness than  maternal  tenderness. 

“ You’ve  had  your  way,  young  fellow,  and 
you  ’re  bound  off;  you  won’t  be  sorry  but  once. 
Good  luck  t’  y’.” 

“ And  were  you  sorry?”  asked  Mysie,  breath- 
lessly, hoping  he  would  say  never ; but  slowly 
shaking  his  head,  the  old  man  replied,  — 

“ I rather  guess  I was,  ma’am ; and  it  begun 
before  I was  out  of  sight  of  land,  and  it  lasted 
till  I reached  old  Nantucket  again,  — a matter  of 
three  years.  I don’t  suppose  a boy  ever  goes 
to  sea,  especially  in  a whaler,  but  what  he  is 
sorry ; and  mighty  few  would  ever  go  the  second 
time,  only  they  daresn’t  stay  at  home  for  fear  of 
getting  laughed  at.  Once  in  a while  there  has 
been  one  that  give  up  after  the  first  voyage, 
but  I was  always  sorry  for  ’em.  Folks  never 
let  ’em  forget  it.” 


288 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“ 4 The  world’s  dread  laugh/  ” murmured  My- 
sie, and  the  old  wife  sitting  by,  remarked,  — 

“ That ’s  like  the  old  song  we  used  to  sing 
when  I was  a girl : ‘ Don’t  think  you  ’re  at  your 
ease,  my  boys.’  ” 

“ What  is  that?  Won’t  you  sing  it  for  me?  ” 
asked  Mysie;  but  the  old  lady  laughed  and 
shook  her  head,  — 

“ My  singing  days  are  over  as  well  as  my 
dancing  days ; but  I might  tell  you  a few  of  the 
verses,  maybe.” 

“ Do,  and  let  me  write  them  down,”  exclaimed 
Mysie,  delighted ; and  with  many  pauses  for 
memory  and  many  consultations  with  the  smil- 
ing husband  the  dame  repeated  these  lines, 
graphic  enough  in  their  way,  and  very  popu- 
lar, as  she  said,  with  the  girls  and  boys  of  her 
especial  “gang”  in  her  youth:  — 

“ Come  all  young  men,  both  far  and  near, 

That  sail  the  briny  seas  : 

When  you  ’re  on  board  of  a whaling  ship 
Don’t  think  you  ’re  at  your  ease,  my  boys, 

Don’t  think  you  ’re  at  your  ease. 

“ When  first  you  leave  your  native  shore 
You  spread  a crowd  of  sail, 

Clear  off  your  decks,  one  man  aloft 
To  look  out  for  sperm-whale,  my  boys, 

To  look  out  for  sperm-whale. 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


289 


“ The  Western  Islands  first  you  make  : 

If  you ’ve  any  luck  meanwhile, 

You  ’ll  get  a whale  off  the  Cape  de  Verdes 
Will  make  your  owners  smile,  my  boys, 

Will  make  your  owners  smile. 

“ We  cross  the  Line  and  pass  the  Banks 
Where  the  winds  blow  high  and  low, 

To  double  Cape  Horn  where  there ’s  many  a storm 
And  many  a bitter  blow,  my  boys, 

And  many  a bitter  blow. 

“ ‘ One  man  aloft,’  our  captain  cries, 

‘ To  keep  a sharp  look-out ! 

Look  all  around  on  every  side 

For  breaches,  hump,  or  spout,  my  boys, 

For  breaches,  hump,  or  spout!  ’ 

There  she  blows ! ’ is  the  cry  from  our  mast-head, 
And  it  is  a pleasant  sound  5 
‘ There ’s  a large  sperm-whale  off  our  lee-beam, 
And  to  wind’ard  she  is  bound,  my  boys, 

To  wind’ard  she  is  bound.’ 

“ 6 Lower  away  your  boats  ! ’ next  is  the  cry, 

6 Your  davy-falls  let  go  ! 

Shove  astarn  ! Shove  astarn  ! 

Ship  out  your  oars, 

And  down  to  the  whale  we  ’ll  go,  my  boys, 

And  down  to  the  whale  we  ’ll  go  ! ’ 

“ And  here  we  are  ’long-side  the  whale, 

The  bold  harpooneer  stands  by, 

He  darts  his  craft,  and  fastens  well : 

Then,  4 Starn  all ! ’ is  the  cry,  my  boys, 

Then,  4 Starn  all ! ’ is  the  cry. 

19 


290 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


“Our  whale'sbe  starts,  and  to  lu’ard  runs, 

And  after  her  we  go. 

‘Haul  the  line  ! Haul  the  line,  now,  every  man  ! 

We  ’ll  give  her  her  death-blow,  my  boys, 

We  ’ll  give  her  her  death-blow  ! ’ ” 

But  here,  unfortunately,  the  memory  of  the 
I'aconteuse  failed,  and  she  could  only  recall  frag- 
mentary lines,  describing  the  mortal  plunge  of 
the  lance,  the  whale’s  death-agony,  the  towing 
alongside,  and  the  cutting  in  the  blubber.  Fer= 
haps  it  is  as  well  not  to  have  these  verses,  since 
few  persons  not  positively  connected  with  the 
matter  could  find  much  pleasure  in  contemplat- 
ing the  painful  death  of  any  creature,  or  would 
be  able  to  take  a proper  interest  in  the  oleagi- 
nous “ blanket”  enveloping  the  poor  dead  thing, 
its  removal  and  trying  out.  The  old  sailor  in 
his  turn  gave  a graphic  account  of  opening  the 
well  of  spermaceti  in  the  head  of  the  sperm- 
whale,  and  ladling  out  the  contents  in  buckets, 
the  drippings  from  which  hardened  as  they  fell 
upon  the  bulwarks  or  deck  into  the  snow-white 
flakes  familiar  to  those  who  aesthetically  prefer 
candle-light  to  cleanliness. 

But  some  of  us  have  read  all  we  wish  of  these 
things,  both  in  the  text-books  we  unwillingly 


COD,  WHALES,  AND  CAMELS . 


291 


pondered  in  childhood  and  in  the  marine  tales 
we  eagerly  devoured  in  adolescence,  and  we 
will  perfume  the  subject  with  a little  ambergris. 
What  fragrant  and  delicate  associations  arise  as 
one  speaks  or  hears  that  word  ! Keats,  Porphyro, 
and  St.  Agnes  Eve ; recollections  of  the  “ Ara- 
bian Nights,”  sultanas,  odalisques,  everything 
heavily  oriental ; dim,  magnificent  cathedrals,  the 
heavy  white  clouds  of  incense  rolling  out  and 
enveloping  the  worshippers,  and  floating  to  the 
frescoed  roof,  — all  this  and  more,  a great  deal 
more.  Just  say  “ ambergris  ” two  or  three  times, 
shut  your  eyes,  and,  like  the  Marchioness  with 
her  punch,  “ make  believe  very  hard,”  and  you 
will  see  what  delicious  delusions  arise  to  your 
brain ! 

Well,  a sensible,  plain-spoken,  most  interesting 
gentleman  down  town,  among  much  other  valu- 
able information,  told  Mysie  precisely  what  am- 
bergris is,  where  it  is  found,  and  its  raison  d'etre. 
She  is  not  a very  sensible  or  plain-spoken  per- 
son herself ; she  is  fond  of  her  own  delusions, 
and  has  a tender  respect  for  those  of  other  per- 
sons. So  she  will  not  repeat  her  information, 
and  does  not  advise  her  readers  to  ferret  it  out, 
but  to  content  themselves  with  learning,  that, 


292 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


about  the  year  1859,  the  schooner  “ Watchman” 
captured  among  the  West  India  islands  a small 
and  emaciated  sperm-whale,  yielding  only  six 
barrels  of  black  oil,  but  by  way  of  compensation 
presenting  his  captors  with  a lump  of  ambergris 
weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  Only 
one  hundred  pounds  of  this  was  fully  matured, 
but  the  mass  was  bought  by  a well-known  drug- 
gist’s firm  of  Boston  for  the  pretty  little  sum  of 
ten  thousand  and  twenty-five  dollars ; and  My- 
sie’s  informant,  who  was  one  of  the  fortunate 
owners  of  the  “ Watchman,”  remarked  that  he 
was  as  much  surprised  at  learning  the  value  of 
ambergris  as  anybody  else  could  ever  be,  and 
that  to  his  mind  it  was  the  vilest  stuff  he  ever 
handled. 

Some  other  interesting  details  of  the  whaling 
epoch  were  gathered,  partly  orally  and  partly 
from  a printed  list  of  all  the  whale-ships  ever 
sailing  out  of  Nantucket;  and  as  a little  history 
of  many  of  them  was  added  to  the  vessel’s  name 
and  statistics,  this  book  was  like  the  dictionary, 
“ very  good  reading,  except  the  pieces  were 
rather  short.” 

The  first  whalers,  as  we  are  informed,  not  only 
in  this  catalogue  but  in  everything  everybody 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


293 


has  written  about  Nantucket,  were  boats  rowing 
out  from  shore  whenever  the  men  on  one  of 
the  look-out  stations  along  the  beach  “ observed 
a whale,”  — and  in  those  days  the  poor  confid- 
ing whales  were  in  the  habit  of  gambolling  all 
along  shore,  one  big  one  even  coming  into  har- 
bor, where  he  was  at  once  killed  and  cut  up  in 
the  most  hospitable  manner.  These  whales  were 
generally,  however,  only  black-fish  or  right- 
whales,  the  more  aristocratic  sperm  keeping  his 
state  in  the  seclusion  of  mid-ocean. 

The  first  official  notice  of  the  whaling  interest 
is  the  mention  in  the  town  records  of  June  5, 
1672,  of  an  agreement  with  ‘‘James  Loper, 
who  doth  Ingage  to  carry  on  a design  of  whale 
citching  in  the  Island  of  Nantuckket.  That  is, 
the  said  James  Ingages  to  be  a third  in  all  re- 
speckes;  and  some  of  the  Town  Ingage  also  to 
Carrey  on  the  other  two  thirds  with  him  in  like 
manner.”  There  is,  however,  no  subsequent  in- 
timation that  James  Loper  came  to  Nantucket,  or 
that  any  further  official  action  was  taken  in  the 
“ whale  citching”  business  until  1672,  when  Nan- 
tucket, finding  her  immemorial  rival  Cape  Cod 
excelling  her  in  this  art,  bestirred  herself,  and, 
sending  thither,  employed  Ichabod  Paddock  to 


294 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


remove  to  the  island  and  open  a class  in  high- 
art  whaling. 

The  sperm-whale  fishery,  like  Elia’s  roast  pig, 
was  discovered  by  accident : a dead  one  was 
thrown  upon  the  beach,  and  the  thrifty  islanders 
securing  and  cutting  it  up  were  astounded  at  the 
treasure  the  gods  had  cast  upon  their  shore. 
Soon  after,  Christopher  Hussey,  while  cruising  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  island  in  search  of  right-whale, 
was  blown  off  shore,  and  with  the  luck  of  his 
great  namesake  discovered  an  Eldorado  for  his 
countrymen,  — not  a continent  to  be  sure,  but  a 
floating  island,  an  archipelago  in  fact,  for  he 
fell  in  with  a school  of  sperm-whale,  captured 
one  and  brought  it  home. 

And  now  see,  if  you  please,  the  progress  of 
luxury  and  the  insatiable  greed  of  the  human 
heart ! Nantucket,  which  had  with  joy  and  pride 
“ citched  ” her  right-whales  off-shore  by  means 
of  row-boats,  and  only  asked  a full  supply  of  the 
same,  now  scorned  this  meaner  game,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  build  vessels  fit  for  deep-sea  fishing, 
and  send  them  to  look  for  sperm-whale.  These 
first  craft  were  of  thirty  or  forty  tons  burden, 
and  only  supplied  for  a six-weeks’  cruise,  — their 
method  being  to  capture  a single  whale,  cut  up 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS . 


295 


his  blubber,  stow  it  in  casks,  and  bring  it  ashore, 
when  the  owners  took  it  in  charge  and  tried  it 
out,  while  the  little  vessel  went  after  another 
whale.  In  1715  six  sloops  were  thus  employed, 
and  in  1730  the  fleet  had  increased  to  twenty-five 
vessels  of  from  thirty-eight  to  fifty  tons  burden, 
which  together  secured  some  3,700  barrels  of  oil. 
In  1745  the  first  shipment  of  oil  from  Nantucket 
to  England  was  made;  and  in  1783  the  ship 
“ Bedford,”  Captain  Mooers,  laden  with  487  bar- 
rels of  oil,  unfurled  the  spic-and-span  new  Stars 
and  Stripes  upon  the  waters  of  the  Thames,  being 
the  first  American  vessel  hoisting  United  States 
colors  in  a British  port.  But  our  English  cousins 
take  a little  more  time  to  adapt  themselves  to 
new  ideas  than  we  volatile  Americans  do,  and 
the  “ Bedford”  was  not  allowed  entry  until  after 
consultation  with  the  Lords  of  Council ; for  al- 
though peace  was  declared,  the  red  tape  had  got 
tangled  round  some  Acts  of  Parliament  against 
rebels,  and  had  to  be  neatly  coiled  away  before 
Captain  Mooers  could  unload  his  oil,  and  eat  a 
better  mutton  chop  than  even  Nantucket  moors 
could  produce. 

In  1791  the  “ Beaver,”  Captain  Paul  Worth, 
was  fitted  out  at  a cost  of  $10,212,  and  was 


296 


NANTUCKET  SCTAPS. 


the  first  whale-ship  to  circumnavigate  Cape 
Horn. 

In  1819  the  ill-fated  “ Essex,”  Captain  Pollard, 
was  stove  and  wrecked  by  a whale.  The  story 
has  been  previously  given.  Also,  in  1819,  the 
“ Hero,”  Captain  James  Russell,  arrived  home 
after  two  years’-  absence  with  1,070  barrels  of 
sperm  and  63  barrels  of  right-whale  oil.  She 
had  been  captured  off  the  Island  of  St.  Mary  by 
a pirate  named  Beneveder,  who  took  her  to 
Aranco,  where  Captain  Russell  and  a boy  were 
shot.  Seeing  in  this  the  prophecy  of  their  own 
fate,  the  mate,#Obed  Starbuck,  with  some  of  the 
crew,  contrived  to  slip  aboard,  recaptured  the 
vessel  with  her  cargo,  and  sailed  her  out  of 
Aranco  under  Beneveder’s  very  nose,  bringing 
her  triumphantly  home. 

In  1820  the  “ Dauphin,”  Captain  Zimri  Coffin 
(Murphy,  third  mate),  sailed  September  4 and 
arrived  home  July,  1823,  with  1,272  barrels  of  oil. 
Her  adventures,  minutely  and  truthfully  logged 
by  the  third  mate  in  a metrical  history,  which 
may  be  called  the  Odyssey  of  Nantucket,  shall 
presently  be  given  verbatim  et  literatim. 

In  1822  the  “ Globe”  sailed  out  of  Nantucket. 
A month  later  the  crew,  headed  by  Sam  Com- 


COD , WHALES , CAMELS. 


29  7 


stock  a boat-steerer,  mutinied,  and  killed  their 
officers ; they  then  carried  the  ship  to  the 
Mulgrave  Islands,  and  stripped  her  of  sails, 
provisions,  and  stores,  but  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things  quarrelled  among  themselves, 
hung  one  of  the  company,  and  shot  Comstock 
their  leader.  At  this,  Comstock’s  younger 
brother  George,  a boy  of  seventeen,  entered 
into  league  with  Gilbert  Smith  a boat-steerer, 
and  five  more  of  the  crew,  to  escape  from  their 
companions  and  the  less  formidable  savages 
with  whom  they  were  associated.  They  seized 
the  ship  before  their  design  was  suspected, 
sailed  her  off,  and  finally  arrived  safely  at 
Valparaiso.  Here  they  found  a United  States 
squadron  under  command  of  Commodore  Hull, 
who  dispatched  Lieutenant  Percival,  in  command 
of  the  schooner  “ Dolphin,”  to  bring  in  the  sur- 
viving mutineers,  two  in  number,  with  the  seven 
loyal  men  whom,  in  spite  of  their  superior  num- 
bers, they  held  in  subjection.  The  lieutenant 
found  the  place;  but  of  the  nine  only  two  in- 
nocent men,  named  Hussey  and  Lay,  remained 
alive.  The  rest  had  been  killed  by  the  natives. 
Hussey  and  Lay  finally  arrived  home,  and  for 
years  were  heroes  and  objects  of  interest  to  the 
Island. 


298 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


In  1827  the  “ Sarah,”  Captain  Arthur,  sailed, 
and  arrived  home  in  three  years,  lacking  one 
month,  with  3,497  barrels  of  sperm  oil,  — the 
largest  cargo  of  sperm  ever  brought  in. 

In  1831  sailed  the  “ Franklin,”  Captain  George 
Prince.  After  a protracted  cruise  the  captain, 
mates,  and  five  men  died  of  scurvy  off  Cape 
Horn.  A boat-steerer  came  into  command,  and 
no  doubt  did  his  best;  but  not  understanding 
navigation  he  stranded  the  “ Franklin  ” on  the 
coast  of  Brazil,  where  in  Nantucket  phrase  she 
“ laid  her  bones.” 

In  1839  the  “ Penn  ” sailed,  arriving  home, 
1842,  with  1,340  barrels  of  sperm.  She  was  the 
first  ship  taken  across  the  bar  by  “ camels,”  and 
it  was  considered  such  an  important  event  that 
the  town  bells  were  ru^g,  guns  were  fired,  and 
the  population  turned  out  en  masse  to  wave  and 
cheer,  and  to  congratulate  each  other  on  what 
proved  a very  transitory  blessing. 

Now  most  of  us  think  we  know  what  a camel 
is,  and  probably  some  persons  wiser  than  Mysie 
might  not  have  found  anything  very  ludicrous 
in  her  remarking,  when  told  that  the  oil  was 
brought  to  the  wharves  by  camels,  — 

“ I suppose,  then,  it  was  put  ashore  at  the 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


299 


Haul-over,  and  camels  were  the  most  suitable 
creatures  to  carry  it  over  the  sand  into  town. 
But  how  were  they  fed,  and  how  kept  alive 
through  the  winter ?” 

It  is  pleasing  to  know  that  one  has  been  able 
to  add  to  the  innocent  pleasure  of  one’s  fellow- 
mortals  ; and  Mysie  is  quite  sure  that  the  mer- 
riment so  painfully  suppressed  by  the  auditor 
of  this  query,  burst  out  again  as  often  as  he 
repeated  it  during  the  next  year,  and  may  have 
wrought  a permanent  cure  upon  the  dyspepsia 
probably  affecting  him,  as  he  was  an  American. 

But  soaring  above  these  trivial  personalities  we 
discover  that  the  camels  were  two  huge  boxes, 
one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  long,  nineteen 
feet  deep,  and  twenty-nine  feet  at  the  bottom ; 
these  were  fitted  with  water-gates  by  which  they 
could  be  filled  and  sunk,  with  steam-pumps  by 
which  they  could  be  emptied  and  raised,  with  an 
engine,  propeller,  and  rudder;  the  two  were 
yoked  side  to  side  by  fifteen  chains  passing  down 
through  the  keel  of  one  and  up  through  the  keel 
of  the  other,  and  long  enough  to  allow  a large 
vessel  to  lie  between  the  two  camels.  Now  Nan- 
tucket Bar  is  a delicate  subject  to  meddle  with,  for 
Nantucket  people  do  not  like  to  have  it  said  that 


300 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


the  “ Great  Eastern  ” could  not  swim  across  it 
safely,  or  that  the  steamboats  sometimes  hitch 
a little  in  crossing  it  at  low  water.  Still,  in 
point  of  fact,  Nantucket  found  that  for  some 
reason  a heavily  loaded  whale-ship  could  not 
comfortably  sail  into  harbor  and  up  to  her 
wharf,  and  several  whalers  were  actually  wrecked 
on  the  bar ; so  that  it  came  to  be  the  fashion  to 
break  cargo  outside  and  land  the  oil  by  boats. 
This  was  an  expensive  and  tedious  process; 
and  after  a little  thinking  over  the  matter,  Mr. 
Peter  F.  Ewer,  father  of  the  Rev.  F.  C.  Ewer 
of  New  York,  invented  the  camels.  His  head 
found  hands  to  carry  out  its  plans  in  Mr.  J.  G. 
Thurber,  and  in  course  of  time  the  camels 
floated  unwieldily  at  Straight  Wharf,  ready  for 
action. 

The  fashion  of  this  action  was  deliberate  and 
peculiar.  A vessel  heavy  with  oil  arrived  outside 
the  bar  and  lay  to ; her  approach  having  been 
signalled  from  the  tower  (that  is,  the  steeple  of 
the  Unitarian  Church)  and  from  various  “ walks” 
interested  in  her  arrival,  fires  were  kindled  under 
the  engines  of  the  camels,  and  they  steamed  out 
to  her  at  the  rate,  in  very  smooth  weather,  of  two 
miles  an  hour;  in  rough  times  with  less  celerity. 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


301 


Approaching  the  vessel,  the  camels  separated, 
lengthened  their  connecting  chains  until  they 
hung  in  a loop  deeper  than  the  keel  of  the 
vessel,  and  crept  along  one  on  either  side  until 
they  had  her  well  within  their  embrace;  the 
water-gates  were  then  opened,  the  camels  were 
filled  to  their  utmost  capacity  (exactly  as  the 
Bedouins  fill  their  camels  to  their  utmost  ca- 
pacity before  a journey),  and,  being  full,  sunk 
below  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  chains  were 
now  “ hove  taut  ” by  means  of  thirty  windlasses, 
and  the  steam-pumps  set  at  work  throwing  out 
the  water  at  the  rate  of  thirty  barrels  per  min- 
ute; the  lightened  camels  rose;  the  ship,  hugged 
tight  between  them  and  supported  by  the  fif- 
teen chains,  rose  also ; and  when  the  operation 
was  completed,  ship,  camels,  and  all  did  not 
draw  over  five  feet  of  water,  — and  propelled 
by  the  camel’s  engines  and  a steam-tug,  floated 
majestically  into  harbor  and  up  to  the  very 
wharf. 

But  the  camels  proved  themselves  an  expen- 
sive economy;  and  when  in  the  course  of  five 
or  six  years  they  needed  extensive  repairs,  the 
owners  did  not  think  it  profitable  to  make  them, 
especially  as  the  whaling  business  began  to  de- 


302 


NANTUCKET  SCEATS. 


cline,  and  the  camels  went  to  decay  and  “ laid 
their  bones  ” in  the  dock.  A model  of  the  cam- 
els, with  a ship  in  their  clasp,  is  to  be  seen  in 
the  Nantucket  Museum. 

In  1854  the  “ Manchester/’  Capt.  Alex.  Coffin, 
sailed,  and  was  soon  after  lost  on  the  coast  of 
Patagonia.  She  struck  about  fifty  miles  from 
land;  the  captain’s  wife  and  most  of  the  crew 
were  drowned,  but  the  captain,  his  son,  and  a few 
sailors  reached  shore,  where  all  except  young 
Coffin  and  one  man  were  immediately  massacred 
by  the  natives,  who  were  thought  to  be  cannibals. 
The  son  alone  reached  Nantucket  to  tell  one  of 
the  last  and  most  terrible  tales  of  the  whaling 
epoch.  After  this  the  record  grows  sad  and  ster- 
ile. Ships  had  to  be  fitted  at  great  expense  for 
very  remote  and  protracted  voyages ; owners  grew 
despondent,  and  captains’  wives  discontented, 
until  in  1859  the  “ Three  Brothers  ” was  absent 
five  years  and  three  months,  only  bringing  home 
at  the  end  of  that  time  nine  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  barrels  of  sperm  and  two  hundred  and  fifty 
of  whale  oil.  Contrasted  with  such  a voyage 
as  that  of  the  “ Sarah”  in  1827,  this  was  very 
disheartening,  and  owners  began  to  think  it 
best  to  dispose  of  their  vessels,  pocket  their 


COD,  WHALES , AND  CAMELS. 


303 


losses,  and  try  to  supply  the  deficit  in  some 
other  way. 

Finally,  we  come  upon  the  record  in  1869: 
“ ‘ Oak.'  Last  Nantucket  whaler.”  Requiescat 
in  pace  ! 

Several  detached  notices  possess  a great  deal 
of  suggestion  if  not  much  detail,  as,  — 

“‘Niphon,’  sunk  at  sea  very  suddenly;  her  plank- 
ing bored  through  by  worms.” 

“ Captain  Brown  died  in  his  boat  while  fast  to  a 
whale.” 

“ First  whale  ever  taken  in  Pacific  Ocean  killed  by  a 
Nantucket  man  acting  as  mate  of  an  English  whaler.” 

“ Eleven  whale-ships  owned  by  R.  and  }.  Mitchell 
previous  to  1800.” 

“ No  whaler  sailed  from  Nantucket  in  1863.” 

“ Captain  William  Keene,  commanding  the  ‘ Christo- 
pher Mitchell/  made  the  Bay  of  Islands,  where  his  offi- 
cers, boat-steerers,  and  nearly  all  his  crew  left  the 
ship.” 

One  cannot  but  wonder  here  if  Captain  Keene 
had  always  been  polite  and  affectionate  to  his  “ of- 
ficers, boat-steerers,  and  nearly  all  his  crew,”  or 
if  perhaps  some  little  unpleasantness  had  arisen, 
making  them  willing  to  part  from  him  for  a brief 
season.  But  the  “ old  man  ” was  not  without  re- 
sources; for  he  found  Captain  William  Swain 


304 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


willing  to  take  the  position  of  chief  mate  on 
board  the  “ Christopher  Mitchell/’  and  among 
the  loungers  at  the  Bay  of  Islands  they  made  up 
a sort  of  “ scratch”  crew  and  pursued  the  voyage. 
Whale  were  sighted,  and  Mr.  Swain’s  boat  struck 
the  first  one,  when  Swain  himself  was  carried 
out  of  the  boat  and  lost.  Probably  the  captain 
could  not  sail  the  ship  without  an  officer,  and 
perhaps  the  men  began  to  feel  superstitious 
fears  about  craft  and  captain;  at  any  rate, 
they  “put  away  for  home”  with  three  hundred 
barrels  of  oil. 

From  these  few  crumbs  and  scraps  one  sees 
what  a mine  of  wild  adventure,  exciting  sport, 
and  records  of  endurance,  daring,  and  determi- 
nation the  history  of  Nantucket  whalers  and 
whalemen  contains. 

Of  course,  these  stories  lose  much  in  being 
transplanted  from  their  home,  and  nobody  can 
tell  them  as  the  old  men  to  whom  they  are  per- 
sonal experiences.  The  judicious  seeker  after 
such  treasures  will  find  all  and  more  than  Mysie 
did  if  he  goes  to  Nantucket;  and  those  who  pre- 
fer “A  Journey  Around  my  Bedroom”  may 
construct  something  satisfactory  from  the  “ spe- 
cimen bricks  ” here  presented. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


305 


Let  us  close  the  whaling  chapter  with  Mr. 
Murphy’s  most  interesting  rhythmical  log  of  the 
“ Cruise  of  the  Dauphin,”  published  many  years 
ago  in  pamphlet  form,  and  now  out  of  print : 


A JOURNAL  OF  A WHALING  VOYAGE, 

ON  BOARD  SHIP  “DAUPHIN,”  OF  NANTUCKET. 

Composed  by  Charles  Murphy,  Third  Mate  on  the 
Voyage. 


The  ship  “Dauphin”  sailed  Sept.  4,  1820,  from  Nantucket.  The  fol- 
lowing are  the  officers:  Zimri  Coffin,  of  Nantucket,  Master;  Reuben 
Kelley,  of  Nantucket,  First  Mate  ; George  Brock,  of  Nantucket,  Second 
Mate  ; Charles  Murphy,  of  Nantucket,  Third  Mate  ; Joseph  Hussey,  of 
Nantucket,  and  Levi  Snow,  of  Mattapoisett,  Boat-steerers. 


September  fourth,  on  Monday  morn, 
The  weather  fine  and  clear, 

We  weighed  our  anchor  to  the  bow, 
And  eastward  we  did  steer. 

Blessed  with  a sweet  and  pleasant  gale, 
From  west-southwest  it  blew, 

Success  attend  the  “ Dauphin  ” 

And  all  her  jovial  crew  ! 

Unto  the  girls  we  bid  adieu 
Left  on  our  native  shore, 

And  likewise  unto  all  our  friends, 

For  two  long  years  or  more. 


20 


30  6 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


’T  was  one-and-twenty  men  we  had 
This  voyage  to  pursue, 

And  a sperm-whaling  we  were  bound 
On  Chili  and  Peru. 

Then  over  the  shoals  our  course  we  bent, 
Where  billows  loudly  roar, 

The  ship  “ States  ” left  the  bar  with  us, 
Our  company  she  bore. 

September  the  one-and-twentieth  day, 
The  “ States  ” in  company, 

About  two  points  off  our  lee  bow 
A large  sperm-whale  did  lie. 

We  made  all  sail  and  stood  away, 

It  being  pleasant  weather ; 

Our  captains  thought  it  best  to  heave 
Our  chances  all  together. 

“ Lower  down  your  boats  and  after  her ! ” 
Our  captain  then  he  cried, 

And  very  soon  we  had  him  dead, 

And  towed  him  alongside. 

The  body  eighty  barrels  made  ; 

The  head  it  then  did  sink,  — 

’T  was  an  unlucky  circumstance, 

A rare  one  too,  I think. 

October  the  fourth  in  the  afternoon 
We  Flores  Isle  did  raise, 

From  Nantucket  our  passage  there 
Was  only  thirty  days. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


307 


Unto  the  southward  then  we  steered 
For  Boa  Vista’s  Isle, 

In  hopes  before  we  saw  that  land 
To  get  some  more  sperm  oil. 

October  on  the  nineteenth  day, 

Quite  early  in  the  morn, 

Then  Boa  Vista’s  barren  isle 
We  plainly  did  discern. 

We  hauled  our  wind  and  braced  up  sharp 
And  stood  in  for  a while,.. 

Determined  to  go  in  that  port 
And  there  send  home  our  oil. 

The  wind  increased  and  hauled  ahead 
At  twelve  o’clock  that  day,  — 

Hard-up  the  helm  and  squared  away 
And  steered  for  the  Isle  of  May. 

The  forenoon  on  the  twentieth  day 
We  in  the  harbor  went, — 

There  was  a brig  for  Portland  bound, 

And  letters  there  we  sent. 

Her  captain  could  not  take  our  oil, 

So  for  St.  Jago  bore  ; 

At  two  o’clock  arrived  there, 

And  sent  a boat  on  shore. 

At  sunset  then  the  boat  returned ; 

All  sail  was  quickly  made, 

And  to  the  southward  then  we  steered 
With  a strong  northeast  trade. 


3°8 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  twenty-first,  both  ships  hove  to, 
Lying  on  the  larboard  tack  ; 

Our  oil  we  got  from  out  the  “ States,” 
And  empty  casks  sent  back. 

November  the  ninth,  that  day  we  passed 
The  equinoctial  line  ; 

And  then  we  took  the  southeast  trades 
With  weather  clear  and  fine. 

Unto  the  southward  still  we  steered, 

And  naught  did  us  molest ; 

We  weathered  Cape  St.  Augustine 
And  then  steered  south-southwest. 

When  we  got  up  in  twenty-nine, 

The  “ States  ” got  out  of  sight, 

And  then  we  took  a furious  gale, 

At  twelve  o’clock  that  night. 

Clewed  up  and  furled  every  sail 
Soon  as  it  did  begin, 

Got  down  the  three  topgallant  yards, 

And  boats  we  hoisted  in. 

Three  days  it  blew  excessive  hard, 

We  all  that  time  lay  to  ; 

The  wind  then  to  the  northward  hauled, 
And  our  course  we  did  pursue. 

Then  for  the  Brazil  Banks  we  steered, 
And  crowded  every  sail, 

And  kept  a sharp  look-out  to  get 
Another  large  sperm-whale. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


309 


December  eighth  green  water  had, 

And  then  we  tried  for  ground  ; 

We  hove  aback,  let  run  the  lead, 

And  fifty  fathoms  found. 

Hard-up  the  helm  and  squared  the  yards, 
And  steered  for  Staten  Land,  — 
December,  on  the  fifteenth  day, 

We  saw  the  rocky  strand. 

At  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon 
Southwest  by  south  it  bore, 

By  calculation,  we  were  then 
Fifteen  miles  from  the  shore. 

December  on  the  nineteenth  day, 

Just  off  the  weather  beam, 

A ship  a-running  down  for  us 
Was  plainly  to  be  seen. 

She  ran  across  our  stern  and  hailed,  — 
The  “ States  ” it  proved  to  be  ; 

And  then  we  made  more  sail  to  keep 
Each  other  company. 

Unto  the  windward  then  we  steered, 

The  weather  quite  severe, 

But  weathered  all  in  twenty  days, 

And  down  the  coast  did  steer. 

When  we  got  down  in  forty-five, 

A gale  blew  on  the  shore  ; 

The  “ States  ” got  fairly  out  of  sight, 

And  we  saw  her  no  more. 


3io 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


In  eighteen  hundred  twenty-one, 

In  the  month  of  January, 

The  four-and-twentieth  day,  I think, 

We  saw  the  Isle  St.  Mary. 

Then  we  wore  ship  and  stood  off  shore, 

A shoal  of  sperm-whales  saw ; 

We  lowered  our  boats,  got  fast  to  one, 

And  very  soon  did  draw. 

The  whales  to  windward  then  they  went, 

We  after  them  did  row  : 

’T  was  blowing  fresh,  the  chance  was  small,  — 
On  board  the  boats  did  go. 

The  one-and-twentieth  of  the  month, 

Another  shoal  espied  ; 

We  lowered,  and  soon  got  fast  to  two, 

And  took  them  alongside. 

Next  morning  then  we  cut  them  in, 

And  then  began  to  boil ; 

And  both  together  only  made 
A tun  and  a half  of  oil. 

The  second  month,  quite  early  on 
The  three-and-twentieth  day, 

From  our  mast-head  we  did  espy 
A boat  to  leeward  lay. 

Hard-up  the  helm,  and  down  we  went 
To  see  who  it  might  be,  — 

The  “ Essex  ” boat  we  found  it  was, 

Been  ninety  days  at  sea.1 

1 See  account  of  wreck  of  the  “ Essex,”  on  page  258-61. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


311 


No  victuals  were  there  in  the  boat 
Of  any  sort  or  kind, 

And  two  survivors,  who  did  expect 
A watery  grave  to  find. 

The  rest  belonging  to  the  boat  — 

Ah,  shocking  to  relate  ! — 

For  want  of  food  and  nourishment 
Met  an  unhappy  fate. 

We  rounded  to,  and  hove  aback ; 

A boat  was  quickly  lowered,  — 

We  took  the  two  survivors  out, 

And  carried  them  on  board. 

At  sunrise,  on  the  third  of  March, 

We  then  did  plainly  see 
A shoal  of  spermaceti  whales 
Lie  spouting  off  our  lee. 

We  hard-a-weather  and  ran  down, 

Two  boats  we  lowered  away ; 

And  two  of  them  we  took  ’longside 
At  ten  o’clock  that  day. 

Then  just  at  night  we  saw  some  more,  — 
Good  luck,  I do  declare  ! 

We  got  a forty-barrel  bull, 

And  had  a noble  fare. 

Same  day,  while  cutting  in  our  whale, 
About  the  hour  of  three, 

The  ship  “ Two  Brothers  ” then  we  spoke, 
And  kept  her  company. 


312 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


We  cruised  together,  off  and  on, 

Till  March,  the  thirteenth  day  ; 

Our  two  survivors  went  on  board,  — 

Next  morn  they  bore  away. 

To  Valparaiso  they  were  bound, 

Provisions  for  to  buy  ; 

Cruise  one  more  month,  and  then  they  were 
Bound  home  immediately. 

’T  was  on  the  nineteenth  day  of  March, 

For  port  we  bore  away  ; 

And  into  Valparaiso  went 
The  three-and-twentieth  day. 

Nine  days  we  lay  at  anchor  there  ; 

Potatoes  we  did  buy ; 

Of  apples,  pears,  and  Cape-Horn  nuts 
We  got  a full  supply. 

The  water  where  we  anchored,  here 
In  this  extensive  bay, 

Was  five-and-twenty  fathoms  deep,  — 

The  bottom  mud  and  clay. 

The  harbor  here  is  all  exposed 
Unto  a northern  gale, 

And  in  the  winter  season 
They  always  do  prevail. 

The  southern  breeze  begins  to  blow 
In  the  latter  part  o’  the  day, 

And  then  ships  lying  in  this  port 
May  safe  at  anchor  lay. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


313 


When  you  are  bound  into  this  port, 

Upon  your  starboard  hand 

You  ’ll  see  a rock  just  off  the  point, 

But  forty  rods  from  land. 

The  water  round  is  very  deep  ; 

Your  ship  may  wafted  be 

As  near  the  rock  that ’s  off  the  point, 

Her  length  from  danger  free. 

The  first  of  April  we  set  sail, 

And  left  the  Spanish  shore ; 

With  a good  breeze  we  stood  to  sea 
To  try  our  luck  once  more. 

April  the  one-and-twentieth  day 
We  saw  the  “ States  ” once  more ; 

And  then  together  we  did  mate 
As  we  had  done  before. 

And  on  the  four-and-twentieth  day, 

Just  at  the  fall  of  night, 

The  44  Lima,”  44  Falcon,”  and  the  44  Charles,” 
Did  plain  appear  in  sight. 

By  them  we  got  some  later  news 
Than  we  had  heard  before, 

And  all  the  drifts  1 about  the  girls 
From  Newtown  to  North  Shore. 

And  early  on  the  following  day 
Our  helm  we  hard-a-weather, 

To  drop  a little  lower  down,  — 

The  44 States”  and  us  together. 


1 Rumors. 


3H 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


We  steered  north,  and  northwest, 

Until  the  first  of  May, 

Then  hauled  our  wind  and  cruised  off 
The  mouth  of  Tonga  Bay. 

And  there  we  cruised  a little  while, 

In  hope  to  get  some  whales, 

Spoke  the  “ Meteor”  and  the  “ Ark,” 

And  several  other  sails. 

The  weather  rough  and  whales  scarce, 

We  stopped  a week  or  two  ; 

And  then  broke  mate-ship  with  the  “ States  ” 
And  bore  up  for  Peru. 

We  cruised  the  coast  of  Chili  p’er 
And  cruised  it  round  about, 

And  cruised  it  up  and  cruised  it  down, 

And  cruised  the  season  out. 

And  all  the  time  that  we  were  there 
Upon  the  rugged  coast, 

Ten  tuns  of  oil  or  thereabouts 
Was  all  that  we  could  boast. 

’T  was  in  the  latter  part  of  June, 

The  hve-and-twentieth  day, 

Then  three  large  whales  ahead  of  us 
Spouting  there  did  lay. 

We  quickly  lowered  down  our  boats, 

And  for  them  pulled  away  ; 

And  one  old  sog  we  took  ’longside 
At  twelve  o’clock  that  day. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE . 


315 


Our  latitude  observed  that  day 
Was  sixteen,  twenty-four ; 

And  we  were  plain  in  sight  of  land, 

But  ten  leagues  from  the  shore. 

And  on  the  ninth  day  of  July,  — 

JT  was  blowing  mackerel  gales, — 

Another  shoal  we  then  did  raise 
Of  spermaceti  whales. 

And  on  the  purlieus  of  the  shoal 
We  plainly  did  espy 
A noble  seventy-barrel  whale,  — 

She  spouting  there  did  lie. 

We  lowered  the  waist  and  starboard  boats, 
And  having  extra  luck 
We  rowed  just  right,  when  she  came  up, 
And  soon  went  on  and  struck. 

At  three  o’clock  we  had  her  dead  ; 

To  tow  we  did  begin  ; 

At  five  we  had  her  safe  ’longside. 

Next  day  we  cut  her  in. 

We  cruised  three  months  in  sixteen  south, 
7T  was  rugged  all  the  while, 

And  there  we  got  but  fifteen  tuns, 

Of  spermaceti  oil. 

And  on  the  eighth  of  August,  we 
Up  helm  and  bore  away, 

Ran  down  in  twelve,  and  there  we  spoke 
The  “ Ruby,”  Captain  Ray. 


3i6 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


When  we  spoke  him ’t  was  blowing 
Strong  trades  and  heavy  gales, 

And  he  told  us  that  he  had  seen 
Unnumbered  shoals  of  whales. 

But  rugged  as  the  weather  was, 

9 T was  best  to  take  a view  ; 

Again  we  hauled  upon  the  wind, 

To  try  and  see  some,  too. 

Two  weeks  we  cruised,  and  spoke  some  ships, 
The  “ Lima,”  “ Ark,”  and  others  ; 

We  found  the  whales  there  wild  and  scarce, 
Then  mated  with  the  “ Brothers.” 

Then  we  hard-up,  and  squared  the  yards, 

For  Payta  we  were  bound; 

Stood  off  northwest,  and  then  northeast, 

To  have  a look  around. 

When  we  got  down  as  far  as  five, 

Again  we  hauled  our  wind, 

We  cruised  there  for  several  days, 

But  nothing  could  we  find. 

Then  into  Payta  we  did  go, 

And  if  rightly  I remember, 

We  cast  our  anchor  off  the  town 
The  twelfth  day  of  September. 

Ten  days  at  anchor  in  this  port 
Our  good  ship  then  did  lie, 

As  we  scraped  and  blacked  the  bends, 

And  some  recruits 1 did  buy. 


1 Fresh  provisions. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE . 


317 


But  vegetation1  was  so  scarce, 

And  everything  so  high, 

We  were  obliged  to  go  to  sea 
Without  a full  supply. 

Here  is  no  dreary  reef  of  rocks, 

And  here  no  shoal  of  sand 

That  will  obstruct  the  pilot’s  course, 

Along  the  sea-beat  strand. 

The  sea-breeze  here  begins  to  blow 
Late  in  the  afternoon, 

For  here  the  breezes  always  are 
Influenced  by  the  moon. 

At  full  and  change  the  breeze  is  strong 
For  two  or  three  hours  or  so  ; 

In  other  phases  of  the  moon 
Then  lightly  they  do  blow. 

The  hills  that  do  surround  this  place 
Are  all  quite  barren  ground  ; 

There ’s  not  a shrub,  or  plant,  or  tree 
For  several  miles  around. 

The  barren  hills  are  ever  dry, 

For  here  no  welcome  rain 
Descends  from  the  ethereal  clouds, 

To  greet  the  parched  plain. 

The  houses  here  are  built  of  logs, 

The  boards  are  split  bamboo, 

The  roofs  are  thatched  all  o’er  with  straw, 
And  reeds  and  rushes  too. 


1 Vegetables. 


3i8 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  logs  are  driven  in  the  ground, 

Which  serves  for  every  stud, 

The  split  bamboo  to  them  is  tied, 

And  plastered  round  with  mud. 

The  ground  it  serves  them  for  a floor, 

Which  is  composed  of  clay  ; 

A platform  covered  with  a mat 
Serves  for  a place  to  lay. 

The  furniture  does  there  consist 
Of  a table  and  a chair  ; 

The  better  sort  a sofa  have,  — 

But  that  is  very  rare. 

For  knives  and  forks,  they  have  to  use 
Fingers  at  any  rate, 

And  four  or  five  all  sitting  round 
Will  eat  out  of  one  plate. 

Just  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
Is  hung  up  by  a string 
A cot,  for  ease  and  pleasure, 

Where  one  may  sit  and  swing. 

The  one-and-twentieth  of  the  month, 

’T  was  fine  and  pleasant  weather  ; 

The  u Dauphin  ” and  the  “ Brothers  ” weighed, 
And  stood  to  sea  together. 

When  we  had  been  at  sea  six  days, 

Cruising  off  and  on, 

We  saw  a noble  shoal  of  whales 
Quite  early  in  the  morn. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


319 


Our  waist  and  larboard  boats 
Were  from  their  stations  lowered ; 

We  chased  the  shoal  till  we  were  tired, 
And  then  returned  on  board. 

But  ere  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 

Some  more  whales  hove  in  sight ; 

We  lowered,  and  soon  got  fast  to  one, 
And  had  him  dead  by  night. 

Three  days  from  that  we  saw  some  more, 
To  the  windward  of  us  lay ; 

We  lowered  our  boats,  got  fast  to  two, 

At  six  o’clock  that  day. 

And  when  we  had  them  all  stowed  down, 
And  into  our  ground  tier, 

We  made  all  sail  upon  the  ship,  — 

For  Tumber  we  did  steer. 

October  on  the  seventh  day, 

’T  was  Sunday,  you  must  know, 

Abreast  of  Tumber  River  we 
Our  anchor  did  let  go. 

We  furled  our  sails  and  moored  our  ship, 
And  lay  a day  or  two, 

Before  we  could  some  water  get, 

Or  anything  could  do. 

At  length  the  bar  became  more  smooth, 
For  water  we  did  go  ; 

Three  hundred  barrels  we  got  off, 

And  stowed  it  all  below. 


320 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  river  where  we  water  got 
Is  beautiful  and  fine  ; 

Five  leagues  in  length  this  river  runs, 
Crooked  and  serpentine. 

Upon  the  margin  of  this  stream, 

How  lovely  it  did  seem  ! 

The  sturdy  trees  their  branches  bend, 

And  dip  the  silver  stream. 

The  warbling  birds  from  spray  to  spray 
Do  swell  their  tuneful  throats, 

And  make  the  lofty  woods  resound 
With  their  melodious  notes. 

On  either  side  the  waving  flags 
In  wild  profusion  grow  ; 

Through  these  some  gently  murmuring  rills 
Incessantly  do  flow. 

And  here  upon  the  fertile  banks, 

With  ease  and  plenty  crowned, 

The  farmer  with  his  offspring  lives, 

And  tills  the  peaceful  ground. 

His  rustic  cot  composed  of  reeds, 

Though  neither  fine  nor  gay, 

Shelters  him  from  the  nightly  dews, 

And  scorching  sun  by  day. 

For  here  no  drenching  rains  descend, 

Nor  furious  gales  appear, 

But  gentle  breezes  fan  the  plain 
The  whole  revolving  year. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


321 


Here  cocoanutancl  orange  trees 
Do  rear  their  lofty  head, 

And  through  the  pure  delightful  air 
Their  balmy  incense  spread. 

Here  plantain  and  banana  trees 
Upon  the  banks  are  seen  ; 

In  stately  rows  they  all  do  stand, 

With  grassy  walks  between. 

And  here  beneath  their  spreading  limbs, 
Upon  the  ground  reclined, 

The  patient  ox,  when  freed  from  toil, 

A grateful  respite  finds. 

Some  vegetation  here  we  got, 

And  also  got  some  fruit, 

And  with  oysters,  flags,  and  wood  and  poles 
Made  up  a good  recruit. 

And  having  got  all  things  on  board, 

We  weighed  and  stood  to  sea, 

With  a fine  breeze  from  north-northeast, 
The  “ Brothers  ” in  company. 

And  now ’t  was  time  to  leave  the  coast ; 

The  season  had  come  round 
When  we  must  to  the  westward  steer, 

And  take  the  Off-Shore  ground. 

Accordingly  we  steered  west, 

Left  the  adjacent  shore, — 

Cape  Blanco,  distant  thirty  leagues, 

And  east-southeast  it  bore. 


21 


322 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


When  we  got  off  in  the  longitude 
Of  one  hundred  nine  and  eight, 

Our  captains  then  they  thought  it  best 
No  longer  for  to  mate. 

So  we  our  partnership  dissolved, 

Each  different  courses  took, 

In  hopes  by  that  to  bring  about 
Some  little- better  luck. 

But  dire  misfortune’s  powerful  hand 
Had  marked  us  for  her  own, 

And  not  one  mite  of  odds  it  made 
Whether  mated  or  alone. 

In  eighteen  hundred  twenty-two, 

’T  was  on  the  New  Year’s  day, 

A large  sperm-whale  we  did  espy, 

To  the  leeward  of  us  lay. 

Then  all  three  boats  were  quickly  lowered, 
And  for  him  rowed  away  ; 

We  took  this  noble  prize  ’longside 
At  five  o’clock  that  day. 

That  served  to  cheer  our  spirits  up, 

In  hopes  that  through  the  year 
Good  luck  would  still  continue  on, 

And  better  days  appear. 

We  cruised  upon  the  Off-Shore  ground 
About  four  months  I ween  ; 

Fine  weather  all  the  time  we  had, 

As  any  we  had  seen. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


323 


But  the  season  being  far  advanced, 

And  few  whales  to  be  found, 

Our  captain  thought  it  best  to  go 
Upon  the  northern  ground. 

’T  was  then  we  mated  with  the  “ Hope/’  — 
From  Boston  she  did  hail ; 

We  steered  off  west  and  north-northwest, 
In  hopes  to  find  some  whales. 

A week  from  that  or  thereabouts, 

Our  captains  did  agree, 

The  bark  “ Eliza”  of  New  York 
To  take  in  company. 

We  to  the  northward  bent  our  way, 

With  northeast  trades  and  clear, 

And  for  the  Sandwich  Islands  then 
All  three  of  us  did  steer. 

’T  was  on  the  thirteenth  day  of  March, 
Quite  early  in  the  morn, 

The  Island  of  Mani  ahead 
We  plainly  did  discern. 

The  wind  it  proving  very  light 
In  the  latter  part  of  the  day, 

At  sunset  we  all  hove  aback, 

And  there  all  night  did  lay. 

Our  little  whaling  squadron  then 
A cloud  of  sails  did  spread, 

And  west-northwest  we  all  did  steer, 

To  clear  the  northern  head. 


324 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


At  daylight  on  the  fifteenth  day, 

We  all  three  hard-a-weather, 

And  round  the  western  point  we  steered, 

All  three  of  us  together. 

At  six  o’clock,  or  thereabouts, 

After  a tedious  tow, 

The  water  sixteen  fathoms  deep, 

Our  anchor  we  let  go. 

And  now  our  decks  with  girls  were  filled, 

Of  every  sort  and  kind  ; 

And  every  man  bought  shells  and  beads, 

The  best  that  he  could  find. 

Our  sails  were  furled,  our  good  ship  moored, 
And  everything  put  to  rights  ; 

Two  weeks  we  here  at  anchor  lay, 

And  cruised  on  shore  of  nights. 

The  houses  here  are  built  of  poles, 

Which  are  driven  into  the  ground  ; 

Some  sticks  across  the  poles  are  tied, 

And  thatched  with  straw  all  round. 

The  houses  are  built  very  low; 

And  then  so  low  the  doors, 

That  when  you  enter  in  at  them 
You  must  go  on  all  fours. 

One  room  is  all  they  ever  have  ; 

The  ground  with  mats  is  spread, 

Which  serves  them  for  a place  to  sit, 

And  also  for  a bed. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE . 


325 


The  soil  is  very  fertile  here, 

And  where  the  land  is  low 
Square  places  are  cut  in  the  ground, 
Where  beds  of  taro  grow. 

The  water  from  the  mountain  is 
Conveyed  by  various  roads  ; 

And  in  these  taro  beds  it  runs, 

Which  keeps  them  overflowed. 

And  here  are  pleasant  walks  laid  out 
Between  the  beds  of  taro, 

Where  you  must  walk  in  Indian  file, 
Because  they  are  so  narrow. 

Here  sweet  potatoes,  corn  and  yams, 
In  plenteous  crops  are  found; 

Here  the  bread-fruit  trees  do  grace 
The  cultivated  ground. 

Here  cabbage  and  tobacco  plants 
Are  natured  to  the  soil, 

And  melons  of  two  different  kinds 
Reward  the  farmer’s  toil. 

Here  plantains  and  bananas  thrive, 
And  cocoanuts  abound, 

And  squashes,  gourds,  and  sugar-cane 
Adorn  the  fruitful  ground. 

April  the  fifth,  in  the  afternoon, 

A leading  breeze  it  blew  ; 

Then  we  got  under  way  and  bid 
The  Mani  girls  adieu. 


32^ 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Then  for  Oahu  we  shaped  our  course, 
And  west-by-south  did  steer; 

The  Mani  mountains  capped  with  clouds 
Began  to  disappear. 

Next  morn,  when  Phoebus  o’er  the  deep 
Had  shed  his  rays  of  light, 

The  Island  of  Oahu  ahead 
Did  plain  appear  in  sight. 

At  nine  o’clock  or  thereabouts 
We  were  abreast  the  strand, 

But  the  wind  it  was  a-blowing  strong, 
And  too  rugged  then  to  land. 

Accordingly  we  hauled  our  wind, 

Kept  lying  off  and  on  ; 

So  we  manoeuvred  all  the  night, 

Until  the  following  morn. 

Then  we  ran  in  and  hove  aback, 

The  starboard  boat  did  lower ; 

The  captain  and  six  other  men 
Repaired  unto  the  shore. 

’T  was  April,  on  the  thirteenth  day, 

We  left  the  friendly  shore  ; 

The  “ Hope  ” still  kept  our  company, 
And  westward  we  did  steer. 

And  for  the  Japan  coast  we  steered, 
Expecting  there  to  find 
The  bosom  of  the  briny  deep 
With  spermaceti  lined. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE . 


327 


Then  we  ran  down  the  northeast  trades 
For  two  or  three  weeks  or  more, 

Until  our  longitude  was  east, 

One  hundred  seventy-four. 

Then  we  hauled  up  and  steered  northwest, 
And  shortly  did  arrive 
North  of  the  equinoctial  line, 

In  thirty-four  or  five. 

Now  got  upon  the  Japan  coast,  — - 
We  every  night  hove  to, 

Our  longitude  then  being  east, 

One  hundred  sixty-two. 

And  all  the  month  of  May  throughout 
Bad  weather  there  we  found, 

And  fogs,  and  calms,  and  heavy  rains 
Environed  us  all  round. 

?T  was  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  June, 

A heavy  gale  it  blew  ; 

We  parted  from  the  “ Hope,” 

As  we  were  lying  to. 

The  weather  now  became  more  smooth 
Than  it  had  been  before, 

And  now  the  ocean  all  around 
A cheering  aspect  bore. 

July  and  August,  then  we  had 
Fine  weather  all  the  while, 

And  those  two  months  we  did  procure 
Full  seventy  tuns  of  oil. 


328 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  season  being  far  advanced, 

’T  was  drawing  near  the  time 
To  leave  the  northern  latitude 
And  try  a southern  clime. 

For  the  Sandwich  Islands  then  we  steered, 
Some  few  recruits  to  buy, 

Likewise  some  water  to  obtain, 

And  get  a fresh  supply. 

October  the  ninth  at  eight  p.  M. 

The  isle  of  Hawaii, 

Bearing  south-southeast  of  us, 

We  plainly  then  did  see. 

And  when  the  sun  dispelled  the  mist 
That  gathered  in  the  night, 

Then  Morotai  and  Mani 
Did  plain  appear  in  sight. 

Then  we  hard-up  and  steered  west 
Till  twelve  the  following  night, — 

Left  Morotai  on  the  left, 

The  ocean  on  the  right. 

Then  we  luffed  to  and  lay  aback 
Until  daylight  appeared, 

And  then  again  we  bore  away, 

And  west-by-south  we  steered. 

Same  day,  while  running  before  the  wind, 
About  the  hour  of  two, 

We  plain  discovered,  right  ahead, 

The  island  of  Oahu. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


329 


Then  we  ran  down  abreast  the  bluff, 
On  the  weather  part  of  the  bay, 

And  then  kept  lying  off  and  on 
Till  sunrise  the  next  day. 

Then  we  ran  in  with  a light  breeze, 
Got  everything  to  rights, 

Let  go  our  anchor  in  the  roads, 

And  lay  two  days  and  nights. 

Then  a pilot  we  received  on  board, 

It  being  now  our  turn  ; 

And  in  the  basin  we  did  tow, 

And  moored  her  head  and  stern. 

The  graceful  damsels  from  the  shore, 
As  soon  as  we  were  moored, 

Came  paddling  off  in  their  canoes, 
While  others  swam  on  board. 

For  here ’t  is  the  same  as  at  Mani,  — 
The  women  are  all  for  trade  ; 

Calicoes,  rings,  and  scrimshaun  work1 
Are  sought  by  every  maid. 

Oahu  is  in  Vest  longitude 
One  hundred 'fifty-nine, 

And  latitude  of  twenty-two, 

To  the  northward  of  the  line. 

A fine,  commodious  harbor  here 
Presents  itself  to  view, 

Which  is  upon  the  southwest  part, 

And  is  equalled  by  but  few. 


Toys  carved  from  bone  or  wood  by  the  sailors. 


330 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Our  ship  we  well  recruited  here 
With  vegetation  kind  ; 

And  at  this  season  of  the  year 
A plenty  you  will  find. 

December  eleventh  at  daylight,  we 
Our  goodly  ship  unmoored, 

At  eight  A.  M.  or  thereabouts 
The  pilot  came  on  board. 

Then  with  a fine  and  pleasant  breeze 
We  soon  got  under  way, 

Stood  out  to  sea  beyond  the  reef, 

And  then  we  bore  away. 

North  west-by-west  we  then  did  steer, 
To  clear  the  western  head  ; 

Then  to  the  northward  hauled  our  wind, 
To  pass  the  northeast  trades. 

And  when  we  reached  the  latitude 
Of  thirty-one  or  two, 

Unto  the  eastward  then  again 
Our  course  we  did  pursue. 

And  when  our  longitude  was  west 
One  hundred  twenty-four, 

Unto  the  southward  then  we  steered, 

To  cruise  a while  off  shore. 

December  the  eight  and-twentieth  day, 
By  our  latitude  we  found 
We  had  crossed  the  equinoctial  line, 
And  gained  the  Off-Shore  ground. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


331 


In  eighteen  hundred  twenty-three, 

First  month,  the  thirteenth  day, 

Provisions  growing  somewhat  short, 

No  longer  could  we  stay. 

Unto  the  southward  then  we  steered, 

And  left  the  Off-Shore  ground, 

And  hugged  our  wind  all  through  the  trades, 
For  Valparaiso  bound. 

When  we  got  up  in  the  latitude 
Of  twenty- three  or  four, 

The  western  winds  we  then  did  take, 

And  steered  away  in  shore. 

The  second  month,  the  thirteenth  day, 

When  daylight  cheered  the  sky, 

Then  Masafuera,  right  ahead, 

We  plainly  did  espy. 

Same  day  about  the  hour  of  ten, 

If  I have  not  forgot, 

We  saw  a noble  large  sperm-whale, 

Going  thirty  or  forty  knot. 

We  lowered  our  boats,  took  chase  to  him, 

But  finding  it  in  vain, 

We  then  gave  o’er  the  fruitless  toil 
And  went  on  board  again. 

For  Masafuera  then  we  steered, 

It  being  now  our  wish 
To  get  a new  recruit  of  wood, 

And  catch  a mess  of  fish. 


332 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS . 


Next  day,  we  having  gained  the  land 
Sufficient  nigh  to  lower, 

Laid  the  main  topsail  to  the  mast, 

And  sent  two  boats  on  shore. 

The  land  is  high  and  craggy  too, 

The  shores  are  iron  bound  ; 

No  harbor  round  the  isle  is  seen, 

No  anchorage  here  is  found. 

The  mountains  are  well  stocked  with  goats, 
Which  easily  are  shot, 

And  wood  and  water  on  the  beach 
In  plenty  may  be  got. 

The  shores  all  round  are  lined  with  fish 
Of  a superior  sort, 

And  at  all  times  and  seasons 
In  plenty  may  be  caught. 

The  thirteenth  of  the  month  we  left, 

And  hauled  our  wind  in  shore, 

And  stood  for  Valparaiso’s  port 
As  we  had  done  before. 

The  three-and-twentieth  of  the  month 
The  land  appeared  in  sight, 

We  ran  off  Valparaiso’s  head, 

Lay  off  and  on  all  night. 

At  twelve  o’clock  the  following  day 
We  in  the  port  did  go  : 

The  water  thirty  fathoms  deep, 

Our  anchor  we  let  go. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


333 


Three  weeks  we  lay  at  anchor  here, 

And  got  a good  recruit 
Of  apples,  pears,  and  peaches 
And  other  kinds  of  fruit. 

Potatoes,  cabbage,  onions,  here, 

We  in  this  port  did  buy, 

And  of  provisions  here  we  got 
A very  good  supply. 

And  when  we  got  our  stores  on  board 
And  stowed  them  all  below, 

We  quickly  then  got  under  way 
And  out  to  sea  did  go. 

In  eighteen  hundred  twenty-three, 

March  the  twentieth  day, 

We  hauled  our  larboard  tacks  aboard, 

For  home  we  put  away. 

Our  mainmast  now  being  somewhat  weak, 
We  thought  it  best  to  fix  it, 

Lest  on  our  passage  round  the  cape 
Some  accident  should  dish  it. 

Then  all  our  boats  we  hoisted  in, 

Our  strongest  sails  did  bend, 

And  all  topgallant  yards  and  masts 
We  down  on  deck  did  send. 

And  having  fitted  well  our  ship 
To  pass  Cape  Horn  again, 

Each  man  then,  fore  and  aft  the  ship, 
Scrimshauning  did  begin. 


334 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Then  knitting-sheaths  and  jagging-knives 
Were  cut  in  every  form, 

And  other  trinkets  for  the  girls, 

As  presents  from  Cape  Horn. 

April  the  eighth,  we  having  run 
Our  latitude  quite  out, 

Unto  the  eastward  then  we  steered, 

And  took  a pleasant  route. 

Fine  weather  and  fine  western  gales 
To  us  did  now  appear, 

And  as  our  longitude  decreased, 

More  northward  did  we  steer. 

April  the  two-and-twentieth  day, 

The  weather  clear  and  fine, 

Our  latitude  observed  at  noon 
Was  fifty,  fifty-nine. 

Our  longitude  then  being  west, 

Just  forty-nine  and  four, 

’T  was  then  due  north  we  steered  our  course 
For  freedom’s  happy  shore. 

When  we  got  down  in  thirty- two, 

’T  was  on  the  fifth  of  May, 

Four  points  upon  our  weather  bow, 

A large  sperm-whale  did  lay. 

Our  waist  and  starboard  quarter-boats 
Were  manned  and  lowered  away, 

And  we  obtained  the  noble  prize 
At  four  o’clock  that  day. 


A WHALING  VOYAGE. 


335 


Then  we  lay  by  the  whale  all  night, 

Till  daylight  broke  again, 

Then  called  all  hands,  and  soon  began 
To  cut  the  blubber  in. 

And  having  cut  her  blubber  in, 

We  then  made  sail  again, 

And  still  pursued  our  wanton  course 
Across  the  western  main. 

’T  was  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  May, 

As  we  were  steering  free, 

We  plainly  saw  Cape  Augustine 
Four  points  upon  our  lee. 

Then  north-by-east  we  shaped  our  course, 
Till  we  got  fairly  clear  ; 

And  then  again  we  kept  away, 

And  north-northwest  did  steer. 

The  twenty-eighth  we  crossed  the  line, 
And  northward  still  we  steered, 

And  when  our  latitude  was  four, 

We  took  the  northeast  trades. 

A favoring  breeze  attended  us, 

With  weather  clear  and  fine, 

And  on  the  ninth  of  June  we  reached 
The  northern  tropic  line. 

The  three-and-twentieth  day  of  June 
We  hove  aback  to  sound, 

About  the  hour  of  ten  at  night, 

And  ninety  fathoms  found. 


336 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Then  we  ran  in  with  a light  breeze, 

Stood  well  in  off  Montaug, 

And  there  we  lay  four  days  and  nights 
Blockaded  in  the  fog. 

While  we  were  lying  off  and  on, 

And  drifting  round  about, 

We  spoke  a little  schooner  boat, 

And  took  a pilot  out. 

The  eight-and-twentieth  day  of  June 
The  foggy  vapors  cleared, 

We  bore  away  before  the  wind, 

And  for  Nantucket  steered. 

The  flaming  orb  of  day  had  passed 
Two  thirds  the  vaulted  sky, 

When,  lo  ! upon  our  starboard  bow 
Nantucket  then  did  lie. 

Same  day  we  anchored  at  the  bar,  — 

Our  anxious  voyage  now  o’er, 

To  see  our  wives,  sweethearts,  and  friends 
We  hastened  to  the  shore. 

And  now  in  harbor  we  ’ve  arrived, 

All  hands  are  well  and  stout ; 

Unbend  the  sails  and  take  them  up, 

And  next  the  oil  break  out. 

Our  oil  is  sold,  and  cash  is  paid, 

We  ’ll  share  it  with  our  friends  ; 

And  when  it ’s  gone,  to  sea  for  more,  — 
And  so  my  journey  ends. 


SCRAP  V. 


VOYAGING  UNDER  PERILOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

WO  days  passed  most  delightfully  in  this 
fashion,  and  the  more  so  that  the  dear 
lady  previously  mentioned  as  having 
traditions  of  the  beloved  mother’s  girlhood  to 
relate  was  spending  a few  days  in  her  own  cottage 
at  Sconset,  and  was  always  hospitable  and  charm- 
ing. The  third  evening  was  still  and  dark,  and 
very  cold,  — a gloomy  and  reticent  sort  of  twi- 
light, in  whose  latest  shadows  Mysie  came  in 
from  the  beach,  thinking  contentedly  of  tea  and 
afterward  of  a good  Sconset  talk  with  her  host, 
who  always  seemed  to  have  a new  phase  of 
interest  to  present,  and  a yet  more  fascinating 
story  to  relate.  But  hardly  had  she  spread 
hands  and  heart  before  the  genial  fire,  when 
Mamie  appeared  with  a letter  and  news  that  the 
bearer  was  waiting  in  the  kitchen.  “ Unhappy  be 
the  man  who  invented  letters ! ” ruefully  mut- 


22 


338 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


tered  Mysie,  foreboding  disturbance  to  her  com- 
fortable schemes;  and  to  be  sure  the  letter, 
forwarded  with  great  earnestness,  demanded  not 
only  a reply  by  the  early  boat  of  next  morning, 
but  a consultation  with  a lawyer  before  replying. 

No  lawyer  was  to  be  had  at  Sconset,  and  the 
problem  solved  itself  with  beautiful  mathemat- 
ical certainty  into  the  necessity  of  leaving  pleas- 
ant fire  and  pleasant  company  and  the  projects 
for  the  morrow,  and  going  straightway  back  to 
town,  seeing  the  lawyer,  posting  her  reply  to 
the  letter,  and  parting  with  Sconset. 

Mamie  was  despatched  to  find  her  father,  one 
of  those  cool,  clear-headed  men  upon  whose 
decisions  women  not  professing  to  be  strong- 
minded  are  apt  to  rest  with  great  confidence ; 
and  after  hearing  the  case  he  assented  to  the 
necessity,  but  shook  his  head  at  the  means. 

“ They  Ve  sent  a little  boy  with  the  carriage,” 
said  he ; “ and  though  he  ’s  a smart  enough  little 
chap  as  far  as  I see,  it  don’t  seem  quite  ship- 
shape to  send  you  off  alone  with  him.  Can’t 
you  wait  till  morning?  ” 

“ Not  possibly.” 

“ Well,  then,  you  must  go  to-night,  and  I will 
go  and  talk  with  Zack  a little  more.” 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


339 


Zack  was  confident,  as  perhaps  smart  boys 
are  a little  too  apt  to  be ; the  horse  seemed 
steady,  and  Mysie  was  determined.  So  after 
examining  every  buckle  of  the  harness,  every 
portion  of  the  carriage,  and  cautioning  Zack 
to  keep  a sharp  lookout  ahead,  mine  host  led 
the  horse  out  of  the  gate,  made  a pretty  farewell 
speech  to  his  guest,  and,  as  it  were,  launched 
the  ship  destined  after  many  perils  to  be  wrecked 
on  Sconset  moors. 

The  roads,  like  everything  else  at  Sconset,  are 
liberal  and  without  any  very  arbitrary  limits, 
consisting  mostly  of  deep  ruts  worn  through 
the  turf  into  the  sand  and  naturally  deepening 
with  every  day’s  use.  When  the  ruts  become  too 
deep,  somebody  drives  out  on  one  side  or  the 
other  of  them  and  makes  a new  track,  in  course 
of  time  superseded  by  another,  and  so  on.  The 
ultimate  effect  of  this  system  is  a vegetable 
and  silicious  gridiron,  from  one  to  two  rods  in 
width,  along  which  one  travels  very  comfort- 
ably so  long  as  he  adapts  the  wheels  of  his 
vehicle  to  its  parallels ; but  very  uncomfortably, 
if  he  tries  to  be  independent. 

Now  either  Zack  or  the  horse  did  try  to  be 
independent,  and  in  spite  of  all  Mysie’s  remon- 


340 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


strances  constantly  traversed  the  gridiron  at  full 
speed,  in  such  fashion  as  threatened  dislocation 
both  of  the  springs  of  the  carriage  and  of  the 
articulations  of  the  traveller’s  frame.  Once  or 
twice  the  rebound  was  so  severe  as  to  throw 
her  upon  her  knees,  or  across  the  back  of  the 
forward  seat;  and  on  these  occasions  a short 
and  lively  conversation  ensued  between  herself 
and  Zack,  who  always  said  it  was  the  horse’s 
fault,  and  as  the  horse  did  nob  speak  in  his  own 
defence  he  probably  felt  guilty.  At  last,  after 
two  or  three  successive  crashes  like  those  tem- 
pestuous chords  by  which  one  knows  when  a 
classic  pianist  is.going  to  leave  off,  there  came 
the  final  bewildering  crash,  the  ultimate  bang  of 
the  pianist,  the  end  of  all  things  for  Mysie  as 
she  for  a moment  thought,  amid  the  tumult  of 
crashing  wood,  prancing  hoofs,  shouting  driver, 
and  her  own  lowly  condition  in  the  bottom  of 
the  carriage. 

“ You  stop  ! ” shouted  Zack,  but  in  so  quaver- 
ing a voice,  that,  had  the  horse  been  disposed 
to  be  disagreeable,  he  would  at  once  have  seen 
that  he  was  master ; but  horses  are  as  a general 
rule  very  magnanimous,  and  this  one,  after  a 
few  experimental  plunges,  stood  still  and  whin- 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING . 


341 


nied  his  inquiries  as  to  what  had  happened. 
Mysie  also,  feeling  a certain  curiosity  on  this 
point,  mildly  advised  Zack,  who  was  weeping,  to 
get  out  and  investigate.  He  did  so,  and  pres- 
ently announced  in  a quavering  voice  that  the 
old  “ whippletry  ’s  broke,  durn  it  all;  and  Taint 
no  fault  o’  mine,  whatever  dad  says.”  Mysie 
meekly  wondered  if  it  was  any  fault  of  hers,  or 
if  perhaps  the  magnanimous  horse  could  be 
persuaded  to  say  it  was  his  fault;  but  pending 
his  answer  to  the  query,  she  advised  Zack  to 
take  him  out  from  the  shafts,  get  on  his  back, 
and  ride  back  to  Mr.  Coffin’s  for  help.  With  a 
good  deal  of  trouble  and  some  muttered  remarks 
not  well  to  repeat,  Zack  obeyed,  and  with  the 
horse’s  patient  help  got  him  free  from  the  broken 
carriage  and  led  him  to  the  side  of  it,  saying, — 
“You  hold  him,  and  I’ll  go  back  to  Sconset 
afoot.” 

“ How  far  is  it?  ” 

“Three  mile  and  a half.  Here’s  just  half- 
way.” 

“ But  why  don’t  you  ride?  ” 

#<  I daresn’t.  He  ’s  awful  ugly,  that  horse  is.” 
“ He  don’t  appear  so ; but  I can’t  hold  him 
while  you  walk  three  miles  and  a half  and  back 


342 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


You  must  tie  him  to  something.  Isn’t  this  a 
fence  that  we  have  run  into?” 

“ Yes,  there ’s  a gully  acrost  here ; and  this  is  a 
kind  o’  causeway,  and  there ’s  a fence  each  side.” 
“ Well,  tie  him  to  the  fence  and  blanket  him, 
and  do  be  quick;  it’s  bitterly  cold.” 

“/’ll  be  warm  enough  ’fore  I make  Scon- 
set,”  muttered  Zack,  discontentedly ; and  having 
thrown  out  one  of  the  robes  for  the  horse’s 
benefit,  Mysie  proceeded  to  encamp  as  comfort- 
ably as  she  might  upon  the  carriage  floor,  with 
the  other  two  robes  and  a hot  brick  with  which 
Mrs.  Coffin  had  kindly  provided  her. 

The  horse  was  tied,  Zack  departed,  and  the 
longest  two  hours  that  ever  lay  between  eight  and 
ten  o’clock  of  a wintry  night  began  to  mark  off 
their  sixty  seconds  to  each  minute,  — and  a sec- 
ond is  quite  a tangible  space  of  time  under 
some  circumstances.  The  horse,  after  some  mo- 
ments of  intensely  quiet  meditation,  evidently 
made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  not  his  fault,  and 
that  his  fine  sense  of  justice  was  outraged  by  the 
unmerited  discomfort  of  his  position.  As  this 
idea  grew  upon  his  mind,  he  tossed  his  head 
so  vehemently  that  the  blanket  slipped  off  his 
shoulders,  and  allowed  the  piercing  moor-wind 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


343 


to  strike  a chill  to  his  honest  heart;  he  neighed 
indignantly  and  switched  his  tail,  but  was 
unable  to  pick  up  and  readjust  the  blanket. 
Mysie  thought  of  getting  out  and  doing  it  for 
him,  but  just  then  he  began  rearing  and  plung- 
ing about  in  so  eccentric  a fashion  that  she  con- 
cluded he  would  keep  warm  without  her  help. 
It  was  so  dark  that  nothing  was  distinctly  visible 
except  the  stars ; and  a very  curious  effect  was 
produced  by  the  horse's  suddenly  standing  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  seeming  to  sweep  a whole 
segment  of  the  stars  out  of  the  arc  described  by 
his  huge  body.  He  did  this  a good  many  times, 
until  Mysie  sarcastically  inquired  if  he  did  n’t 
know  something  funnier  than  that.  Evidently 
he  did ; for  after  one  or  more  parabolas  he 
suddenly  appeared  entire  against  the  stars,  like 
a new  constellation  trying  to  set  himself  in 
heaven,  and  for  a moment  presented  a very 
gorgeous  appearance,  his  head,  mane,  tail,  and 
hinder  hoofs  all  above  the  horizon  at  once. 
Then  he  plunged  over  the  fenc£  into  the  gully; 
and  as  he  went,  Mysie’s  mind  rapidly  pictured 
him  hanging  to  the  rail  and  dying  miserably,  or 
lying  in  the  gully  with  broken  legs  and  dislocated 
shoulders  until  somebody  came  to  shoot  him. 


344 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


Her  first  serious  emotion  arose  at  this  picture, 
for  she  is  a good  deal  of  Dean  Swift’s  mind 
about  Houyhnhnms  and  Yahoos;  but  evidently 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done  in  the  darkness  and 
femininity  of  the  situation,  so  she  only  leaned  out 
and  listened  with  both  ears,  until  the  plunging 
about,  click  of  iron  shoes  against  wood  and 
stone,  and  various  ponderous  sounds  of  crushing 
twigs  and  herbage  showed  that  the  beast  was  at 
least  alive.  “ But  of  course  he  ’s  ruined,  and 
Zack  or  I am  responsible  for  his  value,”  was  the 
next  thought.  But  just  then,  with  a last  mighty 
plunge,  our  india-rubber  steed  arose  and  began 
walking  up  the  gully,  dragging  after  him  a por- 
tion of  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  to  which  he 
had  been  so  securely  tied  that  it  had  preferred 
to  break  and  follow  his  descent  rather  than  to 
release  him.  At  the  top  of  the  gully  he  once 
again  came  against  the  stars,  and  as  he  walked 
composedly  away,  rail  and  all,  like  Samson  with 
the  weaver’s  beam,  Mysie  was  relieved  to  see 
that  he  did  not  even  limp.  The  last  click  of 
his  hoofs  died  away  as  he  wandered  off  upon 
the  moors,  and  a silence  succeeded  so  intense 
as  to  make  a real  experience  in  one’s  life.  Not 
a sound  from  the  sea,  for  the  surf  was  not  pour- 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


345 


ing  in  to-night  in  its  line  of  battle  charge, 
but  sliding  up  the  sands  in  a sullen,  brooding 
fashion,  as  if  meditating  a storm  and  some  ship- 
wrecks; not  one  of  the  hundred  murmurous 
insect-voices  of  summer-time,  not  one  hoot  of 
an  owl  or  the  cry  of  a loon  or  the  cropping  of 
sheep,  not  one  of  the  notes  of  life,  sweet  multi- 
form life,  which  made  the  summer  night-hour 
upon  the  moors  so  memorable.  Here  in  the 
darkness,  the  deadly  chill  and  the  silence,  life 
no  longer  seemed  sweet  and  gracious,  but  terri- 
ble in  its  solemnity.  The  stars  burned  like 
points  of  flame,  and  the  great  red  eye  of  the 
light-house  on  its  distant  headland  seemed 
watching  with  benignant  care  over  this  atom 
of  humanity  which  with  itself  represented  the 
presence  of  man  amid  the  vastness  of  Nature, 
— a light-house  and  a woman  opposed  to  that 
awful  expanse  of  fiery  suns  arching  overhead, 
that  great  black  expanse  of  moorland  around, 
the  ocean  girdling  the  little  island  on  every  side 
and  cutting  it  off  from  the  common  earth ! 

One  does  not  come  upon  many  such  hours  in 
life.  But  the  night  grew  later  and  the  cold  more 
keen,  and  the  bitter  wind  rousing  from  its  nap 
began  searching  every  crevice  of  the  impertinent 


346 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS 


vehicle  standing  in  its  way,  and  pinching  and 
stinging  the  poor  shivering  atom  cowering  in 
its  depths.  Physical  discomfort  was  beginning 
tyrannously  to  assert  itself,  when  a “ Hullo ! ” 
from  out  the  darkness,  and  the  swinging  of  a 
distant  lantern  suggested  a new  train  of  thought. 
If  somebody  cries  “ hullo  ” to  you,  what  can  you 
do  but  cry  “ hullo  ” back  again?  It  is  not  ele- 
gant, it  is  not  classical,  it  is  not  even  aesthetic, 
but  it  is  in  a way  inevitable;  so  Mysie  cried 
“ hullo  ” with  fervor,  and  as  the  lantern  rapidly 
approached  added, — 

“ Is  that  Mr.  Coffin ?”  so  piteously,  that  a 
jovial  laugh  heralded  the  response, — 

“ It  ’s  Robert  Coffin  sure  enough,  and  all  the 
trouble  ’s  over  for  this  time.  Are  you  frozen  or 
frightened,  or  both?  And  where ’s  the  horse?  ” 

The  story  was  soon  told,  and  a new  dilemma 
arose;  for  supposing  the  broken  whippletree  the 
principal  trouble,  Robert  had  only  thought  of 
mending  it,  and  had  slipped  his  horse  into  the 
farm-wagon  standing  in  the  yard,  as  the  easiest 
to  come  at  of  his  vehicles. 

The  horse  being  gone,  it  was  useless  to  mend 
the  whippletree,  since  the  cart-horse  with  his 
chain-harness  could  not  be  adapted  to  carriage- 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


347 


shafts;  and  as  the  farm-wagon  had  neither 
springs  nor  seat,  and  was  used  for  very  practical 
purposes,  our  friend’s  natural  chivalry  urged  the 
impossibility  of  a lady’s  using  it.  His  kindly 
face  assumed  a shade  of  anxiety,  not  to  say 
distress,  as  he  inquired,  — 

“ Now  what  will  you  do?  Stay  here  while  I 
drive  home  and  put  the  horse  into  the  carry-all, 
— Zack  is  here  in  the  cart  and  could  stay  with 
you, — or  could  you  make  up  your  mind  just 
for  once  to  get  into  a farm-wagon  and  let  me 
take  you  back  to  the  house  to  get  warmed  up 
and  have  a cup  of  coffee  or  so  before  we  start 
out  again?  I ’ll  go  into  town  with  you  any  way, 
so  you  can  fix  it  just  as  you  like.  You  Ve  only 
to  say  which.” 

“ Then  if  you  please,”  said  Mysie,  “ I will 
get  into  the  farm-wagon  and  drive  straight  into 
town ; we  are  half  way,  and  it  is  growing  late, 
and  I had  rather  go  through.” 

And  so,  after  much  opposition  on  the  part  of 
this  preux  chevalier , the  affair  was  arranged.  A 
nest  of  carriage-robes  and  blankets  was  arranged 
in  one  corner  of  the  cart,  wherein  Mysie  and 
her  faithful  brick  were  carefully  bestowed ; Rob- 
ert sturdily  stood  beside  her  and  drove,  balanc- 


348 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


ing  himself  like  a sailor  as  the  springless  cart 
rattled  over  the  frozen  road,  while  Zack,  also 
standing  and  holding  by  one  of  the  cart-stakes, 
seemed  sadly  and  silently  revolving  the  question, 
“ What  will  dad  say?  ” 

Eleven  strokes  of  the  town-clock  as  the  cart 
struck  the  cobbles  and  began  to  shake  up  its 
occupants  in  serious  earnest,  and  a few  moments 
later  the  lawyer  just  seeking  his  virtuous  slum- 
bers was  summoned  to  the  exercise  of  his  privi- 
leges ; and  half  an  hour  later  Mysie  bade  a grate- 
ful good-night  to  her  kind  and  chivalrous  escort, 
and  astonished  her  friends  by  appearing  at  their 
door.  But  not  until  almost  twenty-four  anxious 
hours  had  passed  was  the  horse  found  quite  un- 
harmed in  the  remotest  corner  of  the  island. 

A few  more  quiet  days  were  spent  in  paying 
parting  visits  to  certain  persons  and  places  of 
whom  and  of  which  Mysie  had  grown  fond. 
One  of  these  was  the  Athenaeum, — pronounced 
by  many  of  the  burghers  A^naeum,  — one  of 
the  principal  buildings  in  Nantucket,  and  one  of 
the  most  interesting.  Here  is  the  hall  where 
“ Patience  ” is  played,  and  where  the  peripatetic 
lecturer  delivers  one  of  his  two  discourses  for 
the  current  season ; here  also  the  more  stately 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


349 


dancing  parties  are  held,  and  any  other  solemn 
assembly  for  which  people  are  ready  to  pay  a 
serious  entrance  fee.  Below  the  hall  is  the 
Museum,  where  reside  the  jaw  of  a sperm-whale 
and  several  other  nautical  curiosities  more  or 
less  interesting  as  one  may  fancy,  and  a custod- 
ian more  interesting  than  the  curiosities. 

But  the  nucleus  of  the  Athenaeum  is  the  Li- 
brary, — a subscription  affair,  but  open  to  visi- 
tors on  payment  of  a small  sum  for  the  season. 
The  hall  is  a very  pleasant  reading-room,  where 
one  may  see  the  latest  magazines  and  take  what 
book  one  likes  from  the  shelves,  or  consult  dic- 
tionaries and  encyclopaedias  without  formality. 
Here,  too,  hangs  an  admirable  picture  of  Abram 
Quary,  the  last  Indian  of  Nantucket.  He  is  rep- 
resented seated  in  his  own  cabin,  with  a basket 
of  berries  just  picked  for  sale,  upon  a table,  and 
surrounded  with  the  details  of  his  homely  house- 
keeping. Through  the  open  window  at  his  back 
one  sees  the  harbor  of  Nantucket  and  the  long 
reach  of  Coatue.  The  old  man’s  face  is  ad- 
mirable in  its  aboriginal  dignity  and  pathos, 
and  tlft  whole  composition  presents  one  chap- 
ter of  Nantucket  history  with  marvellous  sug- 
gestiveness. 


350 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


The  librarian  is  a lady  whose  courteous  and 
charming  manner  and  ready  interest  in  her  visit- 
ors adds  an  attraction  to  this  pleasant  retreat,  too 
often  lacking  in  more  pretentious  institutions. 

And  now  the  last  days  of  the  Nantucket  visit 
were  slipping  off  the  thread,  and  the  very  last 
excursion  was  planned;  it  was  a long  drive, 
circling  the  eastern  end  of  the  island,  taking 
in  Quaise,  Podpis,  Quidnit,  Sachacha  Pond,  and 
Sankaty  Light-house,  and  so  through  Sconset 
home.  It  really  was  a long  drive  and  a very 
cold  one,  for  November  was  just  lapsing  into 
December,  and  the  winter  settling  down.  It 
was  November  23, — St.  Clement’s  day  in  the 
old  English  calendar, — and  as  Mysie  came  out 
to  the  carriage,  a walking  mass  of  wraps  and 
preventive  measures,  she  quoted  Dr.  Neele's 
lines : — 

“ It  was  about  November-tide, 

A long,  long  time  ago, 

When  good  St.  Clement  testified 
The  faith  that  now  we  know. 

Right  boldly  then  he  said  his  say 
Before  a furious  king  : 

And  therefore  on  St.  Clement’s  day  41 
We  go  a-Clementing.” 

Deacon  Folger’s  horse,  who  alone  heard  the 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING . 


351 


quotation,  took  it  into  solemn  consideration ; the 
rest  of  the  party  appeared,  and  presently  a carry- 
all,  packed  entirely  solid  with  merry  humanity 
and  manifold  wraps,  rolled  down  Orange  Street 
and  out  upon  the  sandy  road  branching  off  to 
the  left  from  the  Sconset  road.  A real  piece  of 
woods  lies  along  the  first  mile  of  this  road,  and 
the  sea  is  never  out  of  sight;  so  that  there  is 
always  something  to  enjoy,  in  addition  to  the 
delight  of  rapid  motion  and  pleasant  compan- 
ionship. And  although  two  or  three  detached 
farms  with  much  shut-up  farm-houses,  one 
school  building,  and  a blacksmith’s  shop  com- 
prise all  that  was  seen  of  Quaise  or  Podpis,  it 
was  a very  delightful  journey.  Quidnit  is  a tiny 
hamlet  at  one  end  of  Sachacha  Pond,  and  Sacha- 
cha  Pond  is  a sheet  of  fresh  water  only  divided 
from  the  sea  by  a strip  of  sand.  But  fresh-water 
fish  are  here  to  be  caught ; and  it  used  to  be  the 
fashion  for  Nantucket  merry-makers  to  come 
out  to  Sachacha  for  picnics  or  squantums,  or  to 
dance  in  a house  built  for  the  purpose,  in  the 
days  when  Nantucket  had  both  more  young 
men  and  more  money  than  now,  and  cherished 
a livelier  style  of  society.  The  house  is  gone, 
the  “ hermit  ” who  was  a feature  of  Quidnit  is 


352 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


dead,  the  perch  are  very  bony,  and  the  whole 
place  has  a lonesome  and  “ gone-by  ” look  to  it, 
— at  least  it  had  on  that  St.  Clement’s  day; 
and  Mysie  was  glad  to  get  away  and  arrive  at 
Sankaty,  where  the  party  unpacked  themselves, 
sat  for  a while  by  the  light-house  keeper’s  fire 
with  his  pretty  wife  and  baby,  and  then  did  the 
correct  thing  in  mounting  all  the  iron  stairs,  in- 
specting the  Fresnel  light,  stepping  out  on  the 
balcony,  looking  at  the  view,  and  pointing  out 
to  each  other  the  familiar  features  of  the  land- 
scape. Light-houses,  however,  have  a good 
many  features  in  common,  among  others  a pro- 
nounced smell  of  oil  and  a certain  oleaginous 
smoothness  to  the  iron  stairs  and  hand-rails  ; and 
on  the  whole  Mysie  feels  that  the  forty  or  fifty 
light-houses  she  has  gravely  inspected  have  per- 
haps filled  the  measure  of  good  she  is  able  to 
derive  from  this  source. 

On  again  to  Sconset,  and  a brief  visit  all  round 
to  her  friends  there,  principally  to  the  house  of 
her  late  host;  finally  a last  drive  in  the  chilly 
gloaming  across  the  moors,  where  the  white 
owls  were  hooting  ominously,  and  so  home  to 
a merry  tea-table  and  a welcome  bed. 

A day  or  two  later  Mysie  had  a tempestuous 


PERILOUS  VOYAGING. 


353 


passage  across  the  Sound,  and  so  home  to  quiet 
comfort,  enlivened  by  the  many  happy  memories 
very  imperfectly  crystallized  in  these  pages. 

There  is  a great  deal  more  to  say  about  Nan- 
tucket, and  Mysie  quite  intended  saying  it,  — a 
good  deal  about  the  places,  and  a good  deal 
about  the  people,  several  of  whom  are  well 
known  to  the  world  in  widely  differing  depart- 
ments of  art,  science,  literature,  philanthropy, 
politics,  and  heroism.  But  after  all  there  seems 
a certain  indelicacy  in  setting  down  the  names 
of  living  persons  even  in  a role  cThonneur  with- 
out their  consent,  and  the  curious  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  Mr.  Godfrey’s  excellent  “ Nantucket 
Guide,”  where,  under  the  head  of  “ Distin- 
guished Nantucketers,”  he  will  find  many  names 
with  which  he  is  already  familiar,  and  some  of 
which  the  whole  world  honors. 

One  exception  may  be  made  to  this  rule,  how- 
ever. The  William  Rotch  there  mentioned  was 
father  of  Mrs.  Farrar,  wife  of  Professor  Farrar 
of  Harvard  University;  and  some  of  us  will 
remember  her  “ Young  Ladies’  Book,”  which 
was  the  Vade  Mecum  of  our  girlhood,  and  the 
fascinating  work  of  her  later  years  called  “ Rec- 
23 


354 


NANTUCKET  SCRAPS. 


ollections  of  Seventy  Years/’  where  she  speaks 
of  her  father  and  his  connection  with  Nantucket 
and  Dunkirk. 

But  the  subject,  like  most  worthy  subjects, 
broadens  in  the  study,  and  one  may  as  well 
pause  here  as  try  to  finish  an  endless  theme. 
The  social  life  of  Nantucket,  the  peculiar  phase 
of  female  character  and  influence  here  exhib- 
ited, the  habits  of  mind  and  judgment  coloring 
its  opinions  of  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  edu- 
cational progress,  and,  above  all,  the  anomalous 
and  transitional  religious  phase  succeeding  the 
expiring  Quaker  faith,  — all  these  and  other 
themes  might  fill  many  pages  more,  and  per- 
haps present  a deeper  interest  than  these  idle 
sketches  of  personal  adventure ; but  space,  time, 
and  strength  fail.  What  is  written  is  written ; 
and  Mysie,  in  dropping  the  pen,  can  only  advise 
those  who  would  fain  know  more  of  a most  in- 
teresting place  and  people  to  go  and  study  for 
themselves.  Vale . 


\ 


